Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?Blessed by Amalia’s staff, there were a few scarce, sparse moments of clarity, of rejuvenation, before the world shook again.
There were blasts and stones walled, strengthening, trying to salvage the weight of the tower upon them. He glanced upwards, inhaling for a moment, as the ceiling rattled and shook, as the ominous threat became all too close, all too real; bits cascading around them, shards of potential doom and damnation.
Then the fumes haunted him again, making him choke, making him gasp, a voice piercing through his mind he thought might’ve been Zuriel (something to reflect upon later, when they weren’t exposed to condemnation). Through the wheezing, the burning in his eyes, the stinging nettles pervading through his chest, Ronin was shouting something again, throw all you have – then run.
A last ditch effort – when they’d been so close.
Deimos didn’t bother controlling the life drain any longer – unleashed and unrepentant, a gallivanting display of the contorted rage flickering in his entity. As he invoked the nefarious enchantments towards the rest of the plants, a rumble, a yell, harpooned over their forces and streaks of lightning, an echo of Ronin’s statements. “After you attack, we reconvene outside the Spire!” Because he wasn’t about to see, to bear witness, to each one of them fall beneath the mighty weight, the pinnacle of stones and irreverence; it’d taken enough people in these scorched lifetimes.
When he could give no more, when he thought it might be enough, the monolith grabbed hold of Amalia’s staff again, hoped there’d be assuaging measures to spare for both of them (the reddened glow shifting in his sights, healing factions), insisting she take the other end with a swift gesture.
Then he turned the way they’d all come, shifting quickly up the stairs, summoning Zuriel to his side, as he intended to escape, to evade, to linger outside the walls of the Spire’s grasp, for them all to have enough time to do the same.
Perhaps, thereafter, they could figure out what to do next.
--
Per Ronin’s suggestion, Deimos throws one last life drain attack at the remaining plants, grabs hold of Amalia’s staff to heal again, and tells them all to reconvene outside the Spire. Then he grabs Zuriel and runs for outside.
There were blasts and stones walled, strengthening, trying to salvage the weight of the tower upon them. He glanced upwards, inhaling for a moment, as the ceiling rattled and shook, as the ominous threat became all too close, all too real; bits cascading around them, shards of potential doom and damnation.
Then the fumes haunted him again, making him choke, making him gasp, a voice piercing through his mind he thought might’ve been Zuriel (something to reflect upon later, when they weren’t exposed to condemnation). Through the wheezing, the burning in his eyes, the stinging nettles pervading through his chest, Ronin was shouting something again, throw all you have – then run.
A last ditch effort – when they’d been so close.
Deimos didn’t bother controlling the life drain any longer – unleashed and unrepentant, a gallivanting display of the contorted rage flickering in his entity. As he invoked the nefarious enchantments towards the rest of the plants, a rumble, a yell, harpooned over their forces and streaks of lightning, an echo of Ronin’s statements. “After you attack, we reconvene outside the Spire!” Because he wasn’t about to see, to bear witness, to each one of them fall beneath the mighty weight, the pinnacle of stones and irreverence; it’d taken enough people in these scorched lifetimes.
When he could give no more, when he thought it might be enough, the monolith grabbed hold of Amalia’s staff again, hoped there’d be assuaging measures to spare for both of them (the reddened glow shifting in his sights, healing factions), insisting she take the other end with a swift gesture.
Then he turned the way they’d all come, shifting quickly up the stairs, summoning Zuriel to his side, as he intended to escape, to evade, to linger outside the walls of the Spire’s grasp, for them all to have enough time to do the same.
Perhaps, thereafter, they could figure out what to do next.
--
Per Ronin’s suggestion, Deimos throws one last life drain attack at the remaining plants, grabs hold of Amalia’s staff to heal again, and tells them all to reconvene outside the Spire. Then he grabs Zuriel and runs for outside.
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
