aftermath of something lethal

DEIMOS

Quiet and contemplative, even in the midst of drinking, he listened for a spell – learned magic from other regions and folds, growing from the midst of minds, already christened, already anointed, incapable of gaining anything if one wasn’t concocted with the skill. Helovia had been different in that regard – anyone and everyone consecrated with the predilection to wield intervals of enchantments, some blessed at birth, others hastened to the Gods and gifted, granted their powers, some by sheer luck, perseverance, or artifacts cultivated from the beckoning unknown. “It is fine. Nothing to apologize for.” It wasn’t Remi’s fault that for every inquiry they answered, Caido somehow unraveled another question; so in the end, they were left more bereft then when they’d all begun. He stared into his glass, nearly empty, contemplating, pondering how far he could push, how far he could pull, if it was just a matter of insinuating himself into a situation where the notions and creations were necessary and vital, or simply a regard to time, to strength, to oblivion. At least the alchemist had tried.

His eyes swung back to Remi as he asked his own entanglements, and the fathoms of his stare followed and flickered wood grains too, as if they were rivulets and pathways to days of old, yesteryears and ghosts, phantoms and wraiths billowing from the blue. “Yes.” He nodded, even if the alchemist couldn’t see it, purely out of habit and ritual. “Some were born with it. Some discovered it on their journeys. Some were ordained by the Gods.” He’d never been the latter, but the former had pressed in on his soul – once, when he’d traversed towards the sea, threatened to be drowned by a crimson bull – refusing to adhere to its treachery, flames in his hands, and he thought his father had led him there. It must’ve fallen away upon his death, not due to return on a second lifeline. “I had life drain since birth.” And it must’ve sounded strange – but two lifetimes had melded and molded the surface of disaster and oblivion straight into his flesh and blood, contorted the inclinations of death when he was a child, forged it further when he was an adult.

He was something solid

to lean against

violent and fierce and unmoving

there are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

i'll tell you the truth

but never goodbye

"Mmmm." Remi hummed thoughtfully. Had he a more abstract thought process he might have wondered why there wasn't some global metaphysical ruleset in place that governed magic. Then again, the notion of there being properly different worlds wasn't something he'd wrapped his mind around either.

"Oh?" The alchemist softly inclined his head. None of his magic was inherently destructive, but the same could not necessarily said be said about his animal shifts. So much as he'd like to recoil at the idea of such dark power, he wasn't as distanced from it as he might think.

"What was that like?" He asked, soft gaze meant to indicate that Deimos could answer with as much detail as he felt necessarily. It didn't seem as though one could be playful with lifedrain, that one could do much good with it. But then, Deimos did not seem to be the playful type, and though he hadn't seen anything which would indicate the Sword was evil, he didn't seem to trend towards outright altruism either.

Remi

Table coding by Sky, inspiration from Jae!

DEIMOS

“Difficult,” he mustered at first, because in his first life, it had been, manifesting in his touch, in his caresses, in his mere essence so anything he maneuvered within faced a threat. It was the genesis of isolation, when he’d begun to withdraw himself from anyone or anything, to protect them, to safe them, from his own entity. It had been the beginning of the end for any and all comfort or compassion, when he’d journeyed away from Isilme and understood how, when, and why to wield it: the stretch of his worth, the potency of his prowess. Bewitching, and deliberately condemning, he’d mastered it until it didn’t even require his caress, just the stoking of his breath, the finality of his contempt, the unholy predilection of a beast too far gone to care. He’d used it for protection, for ultimatums, for oaths of oblivion, where he’d press and push and lacerate adversaries and enemies into their foretold void. Did I not warn you?; because he always had, granted them a singular threat that some failed to adhere to, and with a sinking, simmering relish, extended his nuances and contortions, beautiful, bestial bedlam.

He shook his head, refilled his glass, taunting vibes pulsing off of him in waves. He’d also been detached and forlorn, nonchalant, a reticent, insouciant menace, from everyone, from everything. Unattainable and unreachable on his icy, iron throne, presiding on pinnacles and palisades, choking and cloaking his own pursuits for the art and air of barbaric persistence. The Sword’s eyes narrowed, staring into his drink, musing about the alterations since then. “It was more potent in Helovia. My touch could affect them.” Not so much in Caido – perhaps through portals it’d lost some of its bestial intervals, its dark waves; still deadly, still nefarious, still savage, but allowing him the chance to hold and cherish instead of hide in the shadows again and again. “Seems more controlled here.” He shrugged, then turned the corners of his mouth into a smile, uncertain if he should be ashamed or bewildered, if Remi would be like many in Helovia, immediately shying away from him; despite all the notions and experiences, the circumstances and threats – never a lethal thread orchestrated towards the alchemist. But it hadn’t mattered to some then either; just the notion had been enough.

He was something solid

to lean against

violent and fierce and unmoving

yes other hearts were broken & other dreams ran dry

but our golden ones sail on and on

"Well, thank the gods for that." Remi offered, his tone and stare both extremely dry. With all that was happening he was very, very reluctant to thank their diviner interveners for much. Safrin had saved Ronin once, but she'd now doomed him to die. Frey had helped Phoebe with a number of her problems, but she'd cursed him on two occasions. Ludo had been able to see beyond the barrier the entire time, but only shared the power centuries later. Arduinna had saved Aoife, but taken his sight. The list went on and on, boon and consequence over and over and over again.

"Many mages in Northaven had a similar magic. It seemed...difficult. Especially when it was stronger. If they let their emotions get the best of them it could be quite devastating." It was then Remi realized that perhaps the reason why Deimos was a man of few words was for precisely the reason he'd just articulated. Humming thoughtfully to himself, he stared into his glass with a sigh.

Asking a handful more questions about Helovia if only to get the lay of the land, learning that they too had gods who were fickle, that their monarchs and rulers were not always so benevolent, that their magic was vast and often unchecked, the alchemist realized just how sheltered his little life of before had been.

Eventually though the hour grew late and the glasses empty. With brief goodbyes, Remi left the bakery to make the not-so-far walk back to the guildhouse.


~FIN

Remi

Table coding by Sky, inspiration from Jae!