we're all killers
At her first recollection, the smile he reflected back was absolutely wild with mischief, bereft of all innocence, savage and nefarious, twisted along impish, abhorrent decrees – the kind a predator wore before a final blow. “That was the intention.” Because he had always done it to be intimidating, a faction of menace and malice brooding at their center, at their core, the king of ice and gloom, do not come near dominance and superiority, no one questioning his unattainable fathoms, no one daring to reach closer. “Perhaps Tembovu commanded even his newest recruits to guard.” He shrugged; he’d always committed the same juncture to his soldiers, instructing them to watch the borders, the lines adversaries and foes dared to cross (even after warnings, even after ultimatums, even after he’d ensured a number of them had felt his wrath). It wasn’t to discredit Rexanna and all her efforts – but intriguing, that the worlds had been so similar.
But the Edge countenance, the fact that he’d left that corner of the storylines out, somewhere, somehow, seemed to spark her curiosity – a grin, a bout of laughter, unexpected notations doomed and damned to be unleashed from his memories and mouth. The beast leaned back further into his chair, clutched the glass in his hands, stare roaming along the darkened ceilings, as if far away for a moment, lost in the clutches of shadows, sands, and time, lives twisting and turning back on themselves. “When I first arrived in Helovia, I had come straight from Isilme, and into the World’s Edge.” His malicious grin returned, bold, audacious, a reverberation of what he’d been, cold and callous and entirely too caustic. “Mauja was leading at the time – and I rampaged my way in, asking to join as a soldier.” He shrugged, as if this had been a perfectly normal thing to do – entirely in his pattern and line of work, never lingering along the open borders, never waiting for someone to come find him, show him the way, chasing after the swells of the ocean and the tempestuous current, because it’d been all he’d ever known. “It was only a few months before we were invaded by Mirage’s forces.” Their hatred and enmity had been tested, both clambering for thrones, the Edge to keep theirs, Mirage’s to hoist them away, and despite the bravery of their troops, their adversaries had been too strong, too many, and they’d been outnumbered, outplayed, and forced out. “When we lost, we were all exiled, and spent winter on the Steppe.” Refugees, blistering and scathing, coming back together in caverns and caves, a hostile void seeking retribution.
But the Edge countenance, the fact that he’d left that corner of the storylines out, somewhere, somehow, seemed to spark her curiosity – a grin, a bout of laughter, unexpected notations doomed and damned to be unleashed from his memories and mouth. The beast leaned back further into his chair, clutched the glass in his hands, stare roaming along the darkened ceilings, as if far away for a moment, lost in the clutches of shadows, sands, and time, lives twisting and turning back on themselves. “When I first arrived in Helovia, I had come straight from Isilme, and into the World’s Edge.” His malicious grin returned, bold, audacious, a reverberation of what he’d been, cold and callous and entirely too caustic. “Mauja was leading at the time – and I rampaged my way in, asking to join as a soldier.” He shrugged, as if this had been a perfectly normal thing to do – entirely in his pattern and line of work, never lingering along the open borders, never waiting for someone to come find him, show him the way, chasing after the swells of the ocean and the tempestuous current, because it’d been all he’d ever known. “It was only a few months before we were invaded by Mirage’s forces.” Their hatred and enmity had been tested, both clambering for thrones, the Edge to keep theirs, Mirage’s to hoist them away, and despite the bravery of their troops, their adversaries had been too strong, too many, and they’d been outnumbered, outplayed, and forced out. “When we lost, we were all exiled, and spent winter on the Steppe.” Refugees, blistering and scathing, coming back together in caverns and caves, a hostile void seeking retribution.
DEIMOS
