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.”
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
