run from the light
for Deimos!
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
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Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#1
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
Under the cover of night, as has become her norm, Rexanna sets out with a goal in mind. She hasn’t told many what had happened, the nearly forced marriage, her escape, and her ascension, but she knows of one person who should know sooner rather than later. With Zariah still missing, Rexanna finds a small amount of comfort with her short trip toward the Domiciles, aiming directly for Deimos’ home. It’s a brisk night out, and where she’d usually wear furs and bundles of clothing to stay warm, she no longer needs to. Instead, she leaves in a fit blouse, lowered neckline that reveals the brand along her collarbone (something she used to cover out of habit, but doesn’t care enough any longer to do so — her self conscious mind having been severed during her Ascension) and a nice fitting pair of pants with boots.

Her hair is tied up to not get in the way, and she wears it like a dark halo as she guides herself through the moonlit streets. She wonders what Deimos will think on her walk, to see the brand and her glamour magic gone. She feels almost boring in comparison, but it doesn’t bother her much. At least now she knows when her hands get dirty instead of having to guess.

She finally makes it to his door, and she raises a pale hand to the wood to knock; and she waits. There’s a part of her that wants him to be surprised, where gowns and dresses had been before, she now looks the part of a rogue. She wonders if he’ll be proud of the turn, of her shift in tentative allegiances. Plus, it was after the wedding and she couldn’t help but to have noticed the hard laughter that racked through the crowd at her surprising fireworks display. She’s sure she’ll have to answer a few questions, but this time she can at least answer them.

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#2
we're all killers
Twists and turns had conspired through miniscule days and ridiculous notions; the notice board a fury, the events piercing, and no amount of clarity in sight. As the sunset lingered, as the evening shuddered, he took his time in presiding about the fireplace, restacking pieces of wood, listening to the crackle of the embers and the pop, sizzle of the dried timber being consumed and devoured – eyes on that while his mind buzzed with every preamble and action. Zariah was gone. Remi and Ronin were married. Amalia had been spared from arrest warrants. Jigano was King. It seemed like everything had been tied together without any other direction; the turmoil lifted for a turn. He had his doubts. He had his calculations. But he had his curiosities too – but presumed they would wait until the next day, and the next after that, before something else reared its ugly, treacherous head.

Zuriel, occupying the front of the hearth, raised her head for a single moment – the emblem of her eyes cast upon the door, ears flicking, and so he followed her movements. Someone coming, she announced through their bond, then promptly lowered her head back to her curled forelegs.

Perhaps not something worth worrying about then?

He didn’t have much time to consider any consternation; no sooner had her warning gone off, then there was knock along the threshold. He didn’t bother asking who – if the unicorn didn’t sense danger, then perhaps he shouldn’t either. He’d had visitors often as of late (bizarre, strange even, for a man who’d once preferred the clearest rings of desolation and isolation), but with insurrection, with comings and goings of crowns and monarchs, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He rose from his position, striding over and opening the aperture, to find Rexanna before him. Something was off though, different, altered, and he narrowed his eyes in speculation, stare scrutinizing, examining, a splinter, a fracture, a fissure of apprehension brimming along his brain (had she been hurt, morphed, scalded in some way? Was that why she was here?). “Rexanna,” and he opened the door wider, allowing her to slip inside if she wished; no outer layers of clothing to shelter from the cold should’ve been his first warning sign. “Come in.” The warrior’s stare went to the shadows, in case there were lurking beings, in case there were tremulous, carnivorous things creeping along the outskirts or the woods. Once she’d come inside, he shut the opening, cutting off an onlooker’s potential for information gathering. He, on the other hand, shuffled sideways towards his kitchen, arms folded, an arch to his brow as he continued a perusal of her state. “What have you done now?” It was a joking measure; because he appreciated that she did arrive at his doorstep in whatever capacity. It was something they’d always done – exchanges, trades, bartering, information for information, duplicity for strength.
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
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MP: 0
#3
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
She can’t blame him for answering the door in his usual “trust nobody” attitude, but she smiles easily at him (small to not give anything away) as he lets her inside. The place is more homey than she remembers, filled with more things and far more comfortable than she originally expected to see. She’s happy for him, regardless, and turns to him slightly with a quiet smile playing on her lips as he questions her.

His arms are folded and he gives her an inquiring look that causes a small laugh to slip from her lips. “I don’t work for Zariah anymore!” She chimed, a smirk playing at her lips. “That is what I’ve done, among other things.” She says with a playful tone to her voice. The joy in it all is there, audible as she internally celebrates. Ah, but that’s not entirely why she’s here. “So I thought to come and tell you how that went, and all about what I couldn’t tell you before.” She raises a brow as she looks to him, almost silently asking if he wanted in on her secrets.

She moves then, to sit as she regards him, to wait and see what things he might have to say — if he’s proud of her, of her ability to step up to the plate when needed and return to her instincts.

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#4
we're all killers
She spun in, laughter and relief, and it set him at ease as she began to chime and chirp out the information. The first key notice was not working for Zariah anymore; which was a welcome feat, and a slow smile began to thread its way along his mouth, indulgent even amidst his gaze. There was a joy, an exultation, to her movements and voice that hadn’t been there before – they’d all been too lost in the reverberations of the Merciless’s last exposition, everything falling apart, decadent shades twisting, pulling, and extorting them into different positions and alignments. Rexanna, last he knew, had been in the monarch’s clutches, drawn and drawn and drawn back to the courtier life, to where her duplicity could reign, but where danger could follow. His grin was a complimentary one, ending on a smirk, a snicker, proud of her accomplishments – there had been days before where it might not have been a feasible conjunction, and they’d planned to orchestrate other means, other measures. “Congratulations,” his voice rumbled, pleased, content, fervent to hear the hows, the whys, and the whens.

He maneuvered, grabbing hold of the latest liquor he’d intended to consume, filling two glasses, and placing one in front of her. An easygoing camaraderie instilled, furnished and designated from years of accord and speciousness; applied now in a completely different world. Then he sidled to the nearest seat, dropping his arms to the table’s edge, all the more appearing like a curious scholar, the young, brash soldier at the frontlines, chomping at the bit to defy and riddle his way to death’s door; rapt and eager to hear the latest tale. “Spill.”
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#5
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
A bright smirk is shown in response to his congratulations, with a glance and gleam in her sapphire gaze that almost seems to scream freedom, like that of a caged wolf finally shown the world. But it’s not just because of Zariah that her gaze gleams like that, it’s because of everything she can see and do now – of a body that rarely tires and eyes that see impeccably in the dark. And there’s a part of her that can hear the rumbling of his voice of pride, too.

And he moves, her eyes following him briefly before she moves herself and makes her way to a sofa of sorts she finds, sprawling out on it like a cat, across from where Deimos chooses to sit when he’s done grabbing his liquor. She watches easily while he makes two glasses, and she swallows a bit hard as he gives her a look and full attention – ready to hear her tale of woes and victory. She obliges with the drink, however, remaining some semblance of normalcy – even as it doesn’t burn when it goes down, when the taste doesn’t linger or penetrate her tongue.

Well, for starters, she summoned me to the manor for what seemed like idle chitchat a few weeks ago.” She pauses with a slight shrug, her fingers gripping the glass as her gaze flickers from it to him. “As it turns out, she’s… heard about my previous want for children, and had planned to give me just that apparently.” She snorts a bit, as though it doesn’t mean anything to her now – and how could it? She can’t bear them anymore. “She was marrying me into the family, to a man they had adopted of sorts. Naturally I said no, and I’m sure you can guess how well that went.” She says with a slight frown as she recalls the memory, leaning back on the chair – full dramatics, despite the severity of the situation.

She locked me in the manor, arranged the marriage for the following morning. But I escaped, in a blaze of fire with my fireworks as I’m sure you’re picturing now.” She glances to him with a quiet chuckle. “And then, well, I broke the oath I had with her.” She sits up fully, to give him all of her attention – leaning forward like him with all the dramatics long gone – nothing but seriousness lining the pale edges of her face. “I went to the Voice with the man you saw me with at Remi’s wedding. And I Ascended.” Her tone holds none of the fun, joyous nature, but a sound he’d likely only heard once – when her determination had been her structure upon joining the Basin for the first time.

Long when he had asked her what she wanted to do with her life, with them in the Basin, and she had said a similar thing. She gives him a grin, nearly predatory in nature compared to her usual jubilance, and where her normally even teeth were, fangs were seen. She lifts the glass, then, eyeing him to see how he’s taken the news.

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#6
we're all killers
They might have been back in the mountains, plotting in furtive, painted tents, the way her figure embodied victory, and the Reaper sat back with his drink in hand, ready to hear the tale: brimming along forced marriages, into the family, without choice, without decisions for herself, and he bit back the sigh, the oath, the growl he would’ve uttered for her – wouldn’t it just be the same alteration, the same nuance, that she’d escaped before? But she’d escaped, all on her own, the calamity and acrimony stored within her coming to life: he smirked for her then, a proud, superior, smug conviction. “Good for you,” he uttered before her final proclamation,, good for her for evading, for escaping, for finding a way when the rest of them simply seemed to seethe and simmer against the system. He took a celebratory drink of the liquor and allowed it to burn and sear down his throat; eyes roaming back to her (something off, something altered, something different but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it).

The seriousness clouded over the remnants; her story punctured and pierced at the finale. And I Ascended humming and ricocheting along the ceiling, the walls, the flickering flames.

Deimos was not a pious individual, never had been, and he doubted he ever would be; had no concerns about where someone placed their religion, where someone bent their knees, where someone begged and pleaded. He was only familiar with any Ascended mainly due to Wessex – her weapons, her abilities, the shadow in the darkness, the way she avoided light, entangling herself deeper and deeper into things he’d yet to ever comprehend or understand. Was that how Rexanna would become too: more than a Thief, more than a diplomat, more than a courtier, spinning in secrets, subterfuge, and now, now, now, the potential for further greatness.

So it was acceptance that he gave and granted, a Cheshire grin ensconced along his mouth. Her determination, her fire, ignited in the expanse of her fangs, ivory and sharp, all the better to eat you with canines. There were several things to highlight in those moments, where he wanted to snag and snare, but let it drift for a second more to further congratulate. “You have outwitted them all again.” He aimed to clink his glass against hers, a toast to deceit and duplicity, to new alms and arms, to new munitions and regard. “And this man…” he added, a tease, a taunt, to his arched brow; ask if asking for further details but incapable of bringing himself to do it. Bastien, wasn't it? Only a brief meeting between them from before - when there was a knock on the door and Amalia was no longer breathing -

There was abrupt movement in the shadows, and Zuriel maneuvered into the firelight, her blue gaze segmented and riveted on Rexanna – tilting her head back and forth, nostrils flared, as if she was trying to figure her out. The beast, however, nodded his skull back to the equine, then along to the newest Ascended. “I have a story for you as well.”
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#7
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
She takes the praise of her escape like a balm. It was good for her, and she was glad that somebody could see it – somebody that knew her past as he did, someone that could understand why she hadn’t and wouldn’t be forced to live in a cage again. She could tell as many people as she wanted, but it never quite gave the same reaction as somebody who had been there for part of it. Only instead of Halyven being her cage, the Edge became it eventually as well. And well, we couldn’t have that after all.

Her tone grows serious as she tells her tale, she tells him she’s ascended, and her eyes flicker along the flames beneath the panes of his face. And for a moment, she’s worried, worried that he’ll react the same as so many others. But where concern crosses most others’ faces, a grin forms on Deimos’ face – one to rival her own fanged grin, and she leans back slightly as a chuckle leaves her lips. “I have!” She agrees, lifting the glass to clink it to his own before taking another sip – one that doesn’t burn, doesn’t impair, doesn’t taste – before she glances to him as he mentions the man she’s previously mentioned.

Bastien.” She says quietly with a small laugh, the teasing nature to his eyebrow. They’d been together some time, and she hadn’t left him – hadn’t abandoned him, had learned her mistakes. “We’ve been together some time, since Deepfrost really.” She says softly, a tenderness to her voice as she thinks on their first date, when he asked her to try it again with him. And she had said yes.

But movement flickers and her eyes drift (more predatory than she ever had before) to look at the shadowed creature. The fire flickers its reflection along her coat, and Rexanna’s eyes widen and another grin forms. She looks back toward Deimos, repeating his previous pose, waiting for the details. “Your turn to spill.” She says with a wink, eyes drifting back to Zuriel with excitement lingering in her mind at what kind of tale she held.

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#8
we're all killers
The Reaper couldn’t judge too harshly: he, who has crept demise into those not ready for their final breath, who has thrust swords into hearts, who has craved, who has rebelled, who has mutinied in the heart of his own lands. He was too savage to ever criticize another’s nefariousness, the motives and methods they indulged within to survive, because he had done worse, worse, worse, an instrumental tool and weapon for years, seasons, and cycles. The only assessments he’d ever utilized, wielded, or molded upon another usually lingered along his friends, his allies, his comrades – if something threatened them, if someone brutalized them, if someone lied, manipulated, or ensnared them. Here, in the threshold of his home, and before icy walls, lingering along sullen, detached kingdoms, with their rime, with their brutality, with their declarations of war stained upon their tongues, he wouldn’t begrudge her anything. Rexanna had found what she required, and whether or not it came back to haunt her would come to fruition – but not today, not now, not in these seconds, and certainly not from him.

He took another swig, refilled, shifted slightly back to rivet his gaze on her again; arching his brow only lightly as she remarked upon Bastien. The glimpses he’d seen of him had glistened an intriguing, interesting character, not one that he presumed Rexanna would fall for. But – anything had to be better than the ones she’d left behind. “As long as you are happy,” the warrior rumbled, the edges of his smile beneath the ghosts of the past; the ridiculous fools she’d managed to traipse around.

Then there was Zuriel – dark gray, like chiseled stone, as if she’d come straight out of the Aurora Basin too, with its caverns, complexities, and pride. Her blue eyes riveted solely on Rexanna, her movements closer and cautious, an extension of her maw pressing near the Ascended’s cheek. Trust? She asked through their bond, perhaps asking if she should, because he did. Yes, he answered in their silent threads, and the mare twisted, tilting her noble crown a fraction, billowing air across Rexanna’s skin simply to see how she would react. “Zuriel,” Deimos presided, nursing his drink once more, his hand sweeping in gesture to the unicorn’s presence. Where to even begin? “It is…lengthy.” And she knew how much he hated, detested, copious amounts of discourse and dialogue; fumbling through it anyway, never consigned to be a master storyteller or orator. “I was coming out of the Spire, during our botched mission, to try and summon Safrin. To help the rest of them.” He attempted not to lance it with bitter overtures, but they were there anyway, a rancorous fact stuck like thorns and nettles. “When I was finished, I thought to return to the Spire. Kiada was there,” and he let that thought linger, just a little longer than necessary: “and would not allow me to go. It did not matter anyway, because then there was a unicorn being chased by an infant landshark before us.” If the tale sounded bizarre, it was because the entire situation had been; and though he’d been poisoned, exhausted, and fatigued, it’d still been all the more real, tangible as them. “I attacked it, hoping to save the unicorn – and nearly lost my arm. The landshark died, and she decided to be my companion.” He paused, pondering if there was anything else he was forgetting – an arch to Zuriel’s brow indicated he had. “She can heal.”
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#9
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
As long as you are happy.” Comes Deimos’ rumbling reply, and she eyes him from the corner of her gaze with a small smile. “I am.” She says a bit quietly, shrugging her shoulders easily, watching and letting the conversation die as Zuriel takes up the space of dropped conversations. Her eyes flicker from Reaper to Unicorn, a brow raised in question as Deimos’ only response is her name. “Zuriel.” Rexanna reiterates, listening while she watches the unicorn move toward her. Her brows furrow as Zuriel edges closer and closer, until her face is before the newly Ascended’s and a breath rakes across her face.

A smile breaks out on her face, sapphire gaze slipping up to look at Zuriel’s, a hand reaching up to touch – to pet, to transport back to the Basin and all its wonders with a far less complicated life. At least at first. For a moment, her gaze flickers back to the warrior before her as he mentions it’s lengthy, but she knows to not sit and wait for a wonderfully detailed tale. Deimos isn’t the type, he had others for that. A man of little words, but always the important ones.

She hadn’t heard of them descending into the Spire, and her brows flicker slightly in confusion and worry. “Is that why Safrin is sick?” She questions quietly, but lets the question billow in the air as he mentions Kiada being there and it lingers. Yet, a snort slips from her as he mentions she wouldn’t let him return, and she nods. “She’s smart.” Rexanna replies, perhaps a bit wistful and a hint of sadness, but she thinks the Harpy had been raised right (in however terrible of a manner she’d raised her). Her gaze lifts toward the Unicorn again, listening while Deimos tells her she can heal.

That’s incredible.” She replies simply, hoping to reach and rub the unicorn behind the ear, her head tilting as she does so. “I’m glad you’re alright. Kiada is too, I hope? Her and I… We had an argument in front of the notice board. It went terribly.” She says heaving a small sigh. “I’m grateful she has you.” Her gaze flits over to the Reaper with something like regret and happiness flashing within them.

Then a thought strikes her. “So wait, if you have her and she can heal… Are you going back into the Spire?” The ideas start to spiral in her mind, connecting and fissuring. “Is it because of the blight?” She recalls the way Phoebe had spoken of it, worry crossing her face for a moment as she focuses on Deimos once more.

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
#10
we're all killers
The unicorn accepted her touch was a prideful, haughty look, leaning in, then lowering her head as if to ask for more; tilting her head as fingers scratched over ears and she extended her neck in a show of good faith and avarice. The Reaper muffled a chuckle but said naught otherwise, attention deviating to Rexanna’s features, the changes, the confusion, the apprehension, the trepidation. If only they could go longer than a day without worrying about one or another; but he wouldn’t know what to do in repose, in peace, in serenity or tranquility. “Yes,” he answered, Safrin sick, as far as he understood and comprehended, due to whatever had occurred in that damned Spire after he’d left: sacrificial rites and alms driven for a dying beacon, for Amalia, who’d only wanted it to live and breathe again. He wished it hadn’t been such a disaster, such a failure, such a mess.

At the inclusion of Kiada being smart, the monolith smirked. “She is very clever,” he nodded, agreeing, remembering years long before these, of a child who’d known exactly what she wanted and how she was going to snag it, grown into what she was now – eternally committed and dedicated to her task. But he made no mention of she and Rexanna’s reunion, and while he’d hoped for it, pushed her toward it, he was surprised to hear they’d met once more; either bound in the pattern of ruin or something tempestuous. He winced at the notion of an argument, for it was too bad they couldn’t find a means or ways to get along – family, despite everything else that had happened. While Deimos had long since forgiven the Thief, it seemed the Harpy hadn’t reached that level. “I am sorry.” And he was; he wouldn’t prod anymore on the matter; they’d either come together on their own, or dissolve. He caught the length of her rancor and contentment though, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I doubt I am much use to her,” the beast paused, the smile more genuine, more sincere, “but I am grateful to have her too.”

Then Rexanna must have pinpointed a notation in their earlier threads and segments, riveting on the Spire and the impending, ominous damnation meant to flicker upon them. The beast, the heathen, the fiend nodded again, stare going back to his drink. “We are. We intend to destroy the plants causing the poisonous gas.” And then they could go from there.
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#11
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
He answers her simply and her eyes linger on her oldest friend, a bit of surprise and sorrow racing within them as she takes it in. But the thought is gone by the time Kiada is brought up, and the Penumbra watches as Deimos speaks of her, a slight smile crossing the corner of her lips. She recalls the girl would have done anything to please him, to strife and fight, despite the colder anterior. Basin born, Basin raised, she thinks quietly. But he apologizes that their meeting didn’t go well, and she shrugs lightly in response.

I can’t say I blame her. I was an awful mother you know.” She adds on with a quiet laugh, full of memories of a distant land and separate life. How strange it was to veer so far from what she’d once been, once strove for? She wonders if Deimos feels the same distractions, the changes, and wonders if it’s for the best too.

But she asks about the Spire now, worry lingering in the pit of her stomach. “And if you kill the plants with the gas, what happens next?” She asks casually, lifting the drink to her lips as she looks to him in curiosity. What were they looking to get out of it? But then, another thought hits her, and she raises a brow at him. “The Spire was made for the Voice. Have you tried bringing an Ascended down there?” It’s a casual question, one she thinks on easily before another thought hits her. “Actually, strike that. Lucas was there I think the day the barrier fell, down in the basement. He might have died had I not been there.” Her brows furrowed in confusion. If it was harmful to all, what was it hiding?

and a wound in the other


Coding base by Sky!
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
#12
we're all killers
The Reaper wouldn’t have been a thing to emulate – unless another was enthralled with the notion of disaster, mayhem, menace, and conviction. He was much the same now, but altered, changed, adapted, evolved into something else: forced to re-sculpt, reshape, drawn different lines and sketches along his frame. Rexanna was another with mistakes and errors scattered along primordial histories, frameworks of times and places where natural consequences hadn’t come to light until later, the damage done and settled. He took a long drink, swallowing, letting it burn down the length of his throat, familiar and blistering, a scathing ritual to smolder and sear the ashes of yesteryear. She still lived there too, it seemed, with Kiada’s appearance, existence; his forgiveness towards the Thief hadn’t likely mattered one iota towards the Harpy. She had her own thoughts, her own actions, her own regrets, rancor, and rue – and he didn’t know what to say. His eyes drifted down to the floor, then the unicorn, who’d only lifted her brow, then wandered back to the hearth. “You were not awful,” he mused, a snicker, a smirk, suddenly immersed in amusement, striving to drive them away from the fault lines and mishaps; they’d veered there too often. “Just distracted.” By ridiculous men was left unsaid.

Her next series of questions though were like they were straight back in the Basin, plotting and musing; the beast’s gaze lifted back to hers, everything familiar and strange at the same time. “Hopefully we will be free to explore. There were concerns of the blight originating there.” Or anywhere the Voice had seen fit to spread her nuances. “And portals,” he added, not frowning at the insinuation; perhaps there were more, and they’d be capable of sojourning along other intervals too. But the reality was that he was mostly concerned with the stretch of disease, with fallen goddesses and Ronin, not bringing one of the Ascended in. Her next thoughts inspired other inquiries, his brows furrowing in their machinations and calculations. Weren’t the Ascended supposed to linger on without pain, without need for all these nuances and senses? “So he was affected by the poison too?” Or something else altogether? Were there other things lurking beyond their reach, things they hadn’t seen?
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
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#13
REXANNA
i was born with a knife in one hand
You were not awful.” She bears Deimos day and her sapphire gaze flickers up to his face, a hint of surprise lingering there at his confirmation. But when he jests to her, mentioning she had been distracted, she nods with a quiet laugh of agreement. “Gods, what a shit distraction that was.” She says with a light hint of suggestion toward whom she spoke of the most before chuckling again.

But familiar schemes begin to take hold as she questions him about the Spire, brings up her own suggestions, followed by shooting them in the feet. She listens while he explains what might be beneath and she leans forward a bit to catch all the information. “A portal to what, though?” She muses, uncertain where they might lead. Would it take them all home again? She shudders at the thought, recalling barren ivory walls of her castle, of the dead courtship at her feet. What a reign she had held.

She shakes it off as she recalls about Lucas, and Deimos pries for more information. Her brows furrow and she thinks on it a bit more before tilting her head to him. “It was different. Ascendeds.. We don’t breathe. But his skin was mottled and terrible looking, almost like whatever was in him was going bad or wrong?” She muses, reaching up to gesture to her hand. “We don’t have blood, either, not really.” She says, summoning a small knife and cutting a small line on her palm. It means little to her, she can’t feel it, but her eyes flicker up to him as a small amount of clear fluid seeps from the wound before it begins to heal immensely quickly.

I wonder how our blood might respond to being exposed to the gasses down there.

and a wound in the other


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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)
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#14
we're all killers
He listened to her laugh, better than the grating notions of the past, spinning wheels and ruts in the way, gestures long since gone, forgiven, redeemed. He was capable of moving beyond it, this notion, but not so with many others; striving not to sneer or snort at the insinuation of Tembovu - or how he wished he’d driven him out of the mountains, sent enmity and death towards his soul instead of curiosity and intrigue. It could’ve solved a multitude of problems – but then there’d been diplomacy, politics, and war to consider. He’d refrained because of what the throne had made him – even when all he’d craved to do was run a sword through an ignorant sovereign’s chest. “I agree,” he laughed, a little lighter, less hollowed, less brutalized, less melancholy and anguished.

Rexanna’s musings were similar to his own – portals and the things that bound them, restrictions, access, to where, to when, to what; and though he could always surmise a system of tactics, methods, and intrigues, the unknown was too vast now, gaping at him from all sides. Perhaps at another time, he’d investigate the Atheneum, or pry some Loreseekers’ minds. “I have been told different theories and possibilities. Remi said there is a portal, but to the Greatwood.” He shrugged at that, finished off the dregs of his drink, swallowing until there were no biting, clawing, scathing ramparts down the back of his throat. The copses and glades were a short walk, not a bothersome distance, not enough to make him crave to meander back into the Spire’s fold. “Jigano suggested there might be others though.” And then, perhaps, if they ever saw them, they could begin to dream and wonder and peer, gaping in inquiry and curiosity. Or – if there weren’t any others, then how were they to reach other lands? If they kept exploring? If they kept diving headlong? If they kept tapping at borders, at bubbles, at fringes and boundaries? How much longer until another barrier fell?

We don’t breathe was a noteworthy indication that Lucas shouldn’t have had an issue in the stone tower’s thresholds; and yet, if his skin showed signs of dismay, did that mean the Ascended were victims of the world too? Hadn’t it been measured and designed by the Voice? The intonations didn’t quite make sense, didn’t come together as neatly as he could decipher – not enough, too ignorant, too involved in every other scattered remnant of their plots and motives. Rebel here. Fight there. Rescue a party that way. The Spire had been a distant thought until recently, until blights and poisons starting giving way.

He watched, another moment of bearing witness, as she went to demonstrate their lack of blood: she didn’t flinch, she didn’t hiss, she didn’t do anything as she committed to a laceration of her own skin (which meant no pain either, if he was to surmise anything else). The mountain’s gaze lingered on the clear liquid, not ichor, not crimson, nothing but a different pathway of life, tilting his head as the wound began to automatically heal. At her last notation, he wondered too. “Something must happen, if Lucas had an experience. Perhaps you do not react the same way due to your new composition.” Maybe they weren’t bound by the same codes, the same movements, the same measures, but there weaknesses within too – naught too perfect, all orchestrated and sketches on scales of checks and balances.
DEIMOS


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