Deimos
He hadn’t been the last to arrive – the touch at his elbow indicating Lily’s presence, turning his head to glance down upon her, the softer edges of a smile clinging to his features, muffled slightly by the descent of his brows at her appearance. She’d been altered since the last time he’d seen her. Something seemed off, and he was instantly reminded of Ronin, of Kiada, of the illness presiding along their kingdom, not withholding his breath, but it sharpened on an inhale, an exhale, tucked in his chest. “You all right?” The Sword’s voice was a whisper, not intending to attract unwanted attention amongst the others in the group, concern and consternation coiling in the depths of his stare, a tilt of his cranium, incapable of doing anything else once more.
Useless. He was useless.
Rexanna’s directions and smirk made him rivet his attention, focusing it back on the planning of weddings, gatherings, and nuptials. Since his previous experience in handling ring boxes had gone off well (a christening of Remi and Ronin’s), he was given the same task. He folded his arms and snickered back at her, taking the compliment without a snort, roaming around until he found a table and chair to settle himself along, and concentrate on his efforts.
He caught the theme - winter - and was sent straight back into the mountains, eternally woven into his movements, motions, and machinations – hardly a moment where the summits weren’t in his thoughts. The beast mulled over the possibilities for an instant before the notions came to him over their own accord. The first was Bastien’s – completely contorted in onyx, a deep, deep black like a Stygian surface, like shadows in the dusk, like hollows in the abyss, until there were speckles of gold surrounding the dusky plain. They were spread out in waves, random like drops of paint on canvas. Rexanna’s was embossed in ivory, then contorted with peaks in the background, surrounded by eaves and fog, like bewitching, alluring, enticing prominences to climb. Then he hastened the same spattering of gold as Bastien’s, luminescent on the horizon, so they were a set of black and white, individual and connected all the same.
Useless. He was useless.
Rexanna’s directions and smirk made him rivet his attention, focusing it back on the planning of weddings, gatherings, and nuptials. Since his previous experience in handling ring boxes had gone off well (a christening of Remi and Ronin’s), he was given the same task. He folded his arms and snickered back at her, taking the compliment without a snort, roaming around until he found a table and chair to settle himself along, and concentrate on his efforts.
He caught the theme - winter - and was sent straight back into the mountains, eternally woven into his movements, motions, and machinations – hardly a moment where the summits weren’t in his thoughts. The beast mulled over the possibilities for an instant before the notions came to him over their own accord. The first was Bastien’s – completely contorted in onyx, a deep, deep black like a Stygian surface, like shadows in the dusk, like hollows in the abyss, until there were speckles of gold surrounding the dusky plain. They were spread out in waves, random like drops of paint on canvas. Rexanna’s was embossed in ivory, then contorted with peaks in the background, surrounded by eaves and fog, like bewitching, alluring, enticing prominences to climb. Then he hastened the same spattering of gold as Bastien’s, luminescent on the horizon, so they were a set of black and white, individual and connected all the same.
i rule the stars, not the other way around
