Hang hallowed halos
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,674 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#15
KIADA
i wish that i could say,
i am a light that never goes out.
She nods to him in response, because there’s really nothing else to say. Who else would have told it to him? Nobody else here had the experience, nobody else here had faced the strife she had and still survived, lived, carried on day after day in a world that chewed you up and spit you back out – different,  wrong. But she mentions the mountains after he does, and her gaze slips up to the boughs above them, lanterns flickering in the wind.

The realization that he mentions they’re here somewhere, gives her something to focus on. And she nods quietly, until he gives her a quiet rumbling resolve. They could go home, make it their own. To dwell in the mountain tops where the cold penetrated everything. Made them hardened and strong enough to withstand anything thrown their way. And that’s all she ever wants, she finds. A way to return, to become a creature of mountains and snow – where her iceberg eyes fit in with the rest of them. With the wolf howls that called her home night after night.

The Harpy puts it away for later, keeping it in the back of her mind. A goal. Distracted only by the snort Deimos gives her as she responds to him, aiming her importance to the quiet brooding monarch. To this, she snorts back at his quirked brow. “Well, you were my favorite too.” She announces, arms folding across her chest. He was the only one that had seen her, had seen the strength and strife, the resolve, the goals she had. And didn’t punish her for her curiosity. In fact, he had embraced it, her many trips to recruit, to be something. The power she strove for.

The power that had nearly gotten her killed. It is what it is.

But he ponders her next statement, silently, just like back in the old days. And she finds comfort in his silence, never finding it awkward. Finding it completely and expectedly him. Her head tilts to look at him with a raised brow, and she meets his piercing gaze with her own. Something within her relieves, a weight lifted, questions answered yet not answered, and she grins to him. A wolfish grin, a grin of home.

Me? Never.
but i
flicker
from time to time.
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#16
Deimos
The stories seemed complete; hastened back into the unfolded tales. She didn’t ask about his: and perhaps that was for the best, laden heartaches and torment tossed amongst patterns of insurrection and bleeding foes, graves dug, lives lost, a hardened beast grow back into iron and determination and brooding fixtures again. Maybe she already knew, maybe she already sensed, maybe she, because she’d scorned and scorched too, simply presumed all of the measures, had seen enough to know enough, and his intervals between worlds, savagery, and mistakes wouldn’t have to be brought or kindled back to life.

So they grew quiet, walking in the midst of the haunted woods, two figures from mountains and glaciers, surrounded by glens and ghosts. They were stronger for it, all of it, the particles and pieces that had torn them apart and then rendered them whole again. He wanted the summits back in his clutches and the ice between his fingers, the rime beneath his feet, the rising sun polished over foothills and valleys; but they’d find their place too, here, somehow; too mighty, too potent, too prolific and powerful to be kept at bay, to be harnessed, to be tethered to all these damned fault lines and hollowed holes they’d fell within. It was motivation, to see past the trees, to see the past the borders, to wander into the midst of other worlds and grab hold of peaks, where the rapacious fringes enlightened more than just fate, more than just destiny, emblazoning fortitude, contortions, and prowess.

As he looked back at her – as she voiced the single statement, his features lost all sense of composure and nonchalance. He was bewildered for a second, confused, addled, rattled, no one’s favorite because of the life he had led, because of the people he had commanded, because of the ways he’d demanded, a sword on the throne. The piercing slate of his eyes watched her for a few more intervals, inhaling sharply, exhaling slowly, uncertain how to respond or if she spoke the truth, if he had just been a rock, a piece of stone, in her life, immovable and rigid, staunch and stalwart, giving everything until he had nothing left, until he crumbled.

Instead of saying anything at all, his eyes fell to the ground, head heavy, shoulders bearing an insurmountable weight again as the future rendered and riveted its vices. “We are going back down to the Spire again,” he announced, sullen granules, nothing like the earlier, lighter sentiments, or days spent in winter’s abyss. Only then did his gaze slide back to her, an expression softened with the burdens, with the wraiths, with the phantoms, a sigh ensnared into the fold, into the possibilities, the tangents, the audacity. “If I do not return, can you look after Amalia?”
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 29 - Luck: 17 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,674 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#17
KIADA
i wish that i could say,
i am a light that never goes out.
The light heartedness is comfortable, and perhaps a small amount comforting as she comments on him being her favorite. Her icy gaze slides over to see what he does, how he responds, knowing he hadn’t really preferred to have the attention drawn with the statement. How he’d rather remain dormant on the mountain tops rather than intervene, to be a part of it. An unnoticed crag in the inner workings of the peaks.

But she had noticed.

She might have been flame and fury to her core, but she’d always be the girl hewn from the mountains, chiseled and grown and with enough resolve to do whatever it took. The flame couldn’t met the stone she was molded from, no matter how hard it tried.

And so she relishes the surprise and bewilderment that befalls him, watching as he mills the thought over, waiting for a snark response from him to erupt in the air. But it doesn’t come. Instead, the statement that does has her stopping in her tracks, the smiling and laughter, amusement brimming on her face falls something akin to the cold. She wasn’t upset that he was going back down in there (okay maybe a little) but it was the fact he thought he might not make it out.

She inhales sharply and reaches out with her pale hand to rest on his forearm with a slight frown covering her face. She wants to tell him that he’ll make it out, that there’s no need to make plans of what happens after. But ah, the Harpy has been on the edge of unbelieving, and been left with picking up the pieces after. And all she can do is look fondly at the man who perhaps had been the closest to a father she’s ever had, offering him a determined nod. “I will.” She promises.
but i
flicker
from time to time.
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#18
Deimos
The intention hadn’t been to mire the conversation down, away from the frivolities, the halcyon moments, so few and so far in between everything else. There’d never been a very careful balance along the repose, sanctuaries, and serenity; always a fine line, narrowed down to perils and precarious attributes, some he could simply rattle off his tongue now, with the weight distributed from shoulder to shoulder, person to person. Deimos probably should’ve sunk into the peace and let it remain, let it live, instead of drowning, suffocating, and choking it beneath the fathoms and depths of the other treacheries and pending disasters. He could’ve have merely allow it to exist, warm and indulgent, beatific without the quandaries, without the footfalls, without the tribulations nettled and thorned into their sides.

But he’d ruined it, like so many other things (an emblem, a banner, of destruction and strife; waving his fiendish flags as he glided across the earth, savage and savage again, cold and hostile, a belligerent piece of the scenery). He’d taken the opportunity, afraid (and when had he become so afraid? When loss started to hold meaning? When broken bodies could’ve been his own people, his own brethren, his own comrades? When he dug graves for the masses who’d laughed and joked beside him the evening before?) the chance would billow away, that the instance would recoil, and he wouldn’t be able to summon the strength to deliver it again.

After all, he might not come back.

It was a distinct possibility, when he continued running into danger, when he inclined towards havoc, when he twisted along the boundaries and fringes of menace. He’d gone there before, when it was unknown, when it was mysterious and enigmatic, and now he willingly chased into the ramparts because of what lurked inside. The warrior was confident in his abilities, knew and understood his comrades were capable beings too – but there were always moments stark and desolate, vivid and isolated; where blood ceased, where breathing stopped, where upheaval and vehemence sang, and it wasn’t the same chords he was used to. At some point, his luck would run out. At some point, his frame, his figure would have enough.

It already had before.

She reached out and he wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond; not a cretin of comfort by any means, and less likely to receive the gestures. He sighed again, content that she was strong and stalwart, and maybe he’d taught her something about it after all those years in the winter, in the chill, in the tough, enduring world. He’d just have to remember those pieces too. He raised his hand to hers, fingers lightly squeezing, before letting go; apprehensive to get too lost in the agony, in the anguish, hoping it was all for naught. Her promise was a blessing though, a loose end tied and knotted. “Thank you,” he proffered and extended, steps heavier as they came closer and closer to unwinding paths and apertures.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime


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