DEIMOS
Long Night loomed: his last experience with the cluster of demonic traces and outlines had been enough for a lifetime; well-warranted nightmares that eventually passed, only to come back to fruition at the pending, foreboding squall. Death had been a rampant scourge, exactly as every Natural had noted of it, and he’d had to barricade himself amongst others, crowds stuffed in the Rathskeller, biding their time, waiting, waiting, waiting, for doors to knock, for eaves to crumble, for masks of the dead to parade, for friends, for enemies, to call through apertures and begged to be saved. Sometimes it was nearly like the acts and hands of gods; deciding who lived, who perished, when to open and unlock; he’d moved for Edrei’s announcement and clamor, for the still form of Amalia. And he didn’t want any other patterns of it repeating.
He slid in amongst the crowd, customary to slink along shadows, to listen, to witness, to calculate before granting any answers, any machinations. Some rankled in disbelief about the whole thing (and it could be their funeral – an indifferent notion spiraling through him), Remi responding in kind, trying to stay ahead of the nature of the beast. If it wasn’t the blight, it was Long Night, and if it wasn’t Long Night…
They were all unaware of the next journey ahead.
Ashe’s intonations spoke of experiences with wars and invasions; but better-suited for knowing their enemies. How powerful were these demons? How potent were these monsters? Did they have anything suitable to combat them (fire?)? But it was Kiada’s notions he played off of, stepping away from the darker corners to kindle some sort of calculation along the fold. “Perhaps we could find a way to harness a Luxere’s light, or some sort of fire, and put it into lanterns around the town, like the Spark Bird.” Which would need to be summoned again – maybe, the rebuilding and repairing of the perch seeming to be a vital thing.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
