[SE] heaven and back
deimos!
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#1
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
The Penumbra feels the draw to the Mathair. Yet, she knows she cannot go, that she shouldn’t be going into the Greatwood, that she shouldn’t be venturing into places where she’s not welcome. She knows, in some roundabout way, that they are the cause of it – despite all her wanting to do is help. She finds it’s hard to know where friends begin and foes end, as the blight grows further and further with every passing moment. She feels exhausted mentally, and frustrated.

So she knows not to go alone, slipping by Deimos’ house to invite him out the following evening in the dying light, able to light the way with fireworks and flame to a torch. She hopes it works, hopes that Ronin will get better, that Safrin will get better. But she has no way of knowing. Instead, she clutches the rose close to her heart, her parasol in the other, while they walk into the Greatwood until they reach what certainly appears to be the Mathair.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#2
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
In the this evening’s dusk, he represented bulwarks and barricades, an opposing, dangerous force against those who’d dared to amass themselves against them – except now it’s been mostly friends or the unfamiliar, twitches of blight induced adversaries. But he was a still towering preamble of menace and mayhem in the dying, fading light, in the ghostly hues and pale vitriol of winter, wishing he could immerse himself into the cold and rejoice in its rampant chill, instead of ignite his senses to every noise, to every motion, uncertain if it was another haunted individual come to prey upon flowers and thorns.

He’d tucked his sole remaining rose in his jacket and furs, protection for an innocent figure too – his gaze dropping along to Rexanna, more similar now as they wandered down Greatwood paths, as he delved into conversation (the series of bizarre circumstances continued down their weird slopes and angles, everything so foolishly wrong). In between the flames, he mustered a low whisper, partially amused, partially observant, eyes scanning beyond lights and musings. “We have much to catch up on again.” The smirk relied on shadows, a cloaking of his furtive measures, as they lingered beneath the Mathair, calculating where he’d place the rose, kneeling down amongst its larger roots, pondering if he should sequester it under the mass of twisted fortifications, if others were less likely to sink their claws into the foundations.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#3
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
They near the tree, and for the most part the walk had been quiet – trying not to gather attention. She knows she’s trespassing. But she does it anyway, for the greater good she claims. But she knows nobody will see it that way. And for a moment when they approach, and Deimos stoops by one of the roots, she chooses one a fair distance away, but close enough to converse. She’s almost thankful for the rumble of his voice to keep her from her own thoughts, her own smirk crossing her face.

Gods, when do we not?” She jests with a quiet hum of laughter, sticking her hands into the dirt and unearthing a hole big enough to plant the rose. “Where do we even start?” She pauses, thoughtfully, a brow raised as she does so. “How are things on your end?” She asks, placing the rose into the hole and beginning to place the dirt and snow around it once more.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#4
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
The world was eerily quiet, a pressing distinction, his senses adhering to the twilight gloom sifting and settling over brambles and bereft boughs; eyes seeking and watching as far as they could in the lack of light. The passing of their voices was the only thing threading through his ears, but it didn’t signify that nothing else was out there – they’d already been tracked twice before, by those afflicted and diseased.

Did Rexanna know her daughter was amongst the affected?

He held his tongue and pondered if he should say anything, if he’d pressed and rocked conditions too many times before, and the end results hadn’t been clear either. The world was murky at best, and he felt like he was either crossing lines by withholding information, or circumventing an inferno, playing with fire at both ends of a torch. Would he be blamed (because he did, in a way, configure guilt upon himself) for her tarred remnants, for her diseased status – that he couldn’t prevent it, that he couldn’t alleviate it? Perhaps he should’ve been marred, ruined, and bludgeoned, detested and abhorred. It would’ve felt normal. They’d tried. It hadn’t mattered. Not in the slightest.

The notion coiled down his throat and made it a noose, kept his hands busy with gloves, thorns, and petals as he struggled with what to articulate. “We destroyed the poisonous plants in the Spire. But it did nothing.” As she might’ve guessed on her own, as those with the illness ran rampant along plains and fields, tearing worlds apart well before the real monsters came into winter’s end. “Kiada has the blight,” came along on a sigh, cold and stark and desolate, his eyes riveting to hers from across roots and makeshift forts. “I am sorry.” That I couldn’t prevent anything. That I couldn’t do anything. And after dropping that declaration, it didn’t seem right to show his own alterations and changes; not worthy in the range of disaster and mayhem.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#5
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
Oh, she has absolutely zero idea that her child has the blight. And it’s the last thing she expects to hear as she’s planting her rose, packing the dirt atop it, a light smile on her lips at everything she has planned to do and become, when the ball drops. Her head swivels toward him with her dark brows raised as he mentions they had destroyed the plants in the Spire, but it hadn’t worked to fix or cure the blight. A light frown begins to find her face, but it drops at his next sentence.

It almost feels like the wind stops blowing, and had she needed to breathe anymore she was certain she’d be holding it until she could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest. Her head drops back toward the flower as she finishes planting it before standing. “Is she alright?” She asks softly, a small amount of concern and sadness crossing through. She doesn’t blame the Reaper.

She doesn’t blame anybody.

But she knows somehow, someway, that the Ascended have played a part. So perhaps she’s a bit more guilty than he is, even with venturing here today. How many more had she put at risk? She clears her throat with the thought, a shake of her head, sending her dark hair afloat for a moment before the chilled wind picks back up in the darkness. “How long has she had it?” She asks next, because she can’t imagine what it’s like to have it. She doesn’t even remember what it’s like to be sick.

And for a moment she thinks of Melita, wondering if she should check for the fiery haired girl, to see if she’s alright too.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#6
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
He swallowed and waited for some harpooning mechanism to be lanced and lacerated at his skin, would’ve welcomed it, a blistering, corporeal, and tangible source for his self-torture. Why didn’t you save her? could’ve slashed against him. Why couldn’t you do anything? might’ve seethed and tormented, a noose around his throat, pulled against his flesh and bone when he was incapable of resisting. Why are you so useless? an echo, a resounding, pounding measure against his skull, beating an onslaught of inflicted jeers and provocations, entangling in their brooding fixtures, chiseled into his soul again and again and again.

Instead, there was only a soft inquiry, and he bowed his head away from her, utterly incapable of staring her in the face when she didn’t berate him in contempt, in wrath, in derision. “Last I saw her,” which had been when they were planting roses at the Spire, a zealous, fervent modicum of chaos and destruction amongst protection and guarding. “She had been very angry.” Attacking Remi of all people in manticore decree, a behemoth amongst the masses; the Harpy had clearly lost her sense, and he didn’t know if it was a cause of the blight twisting and turning in her veins, blackened and Stygian, or something else altogether. His calloused palms rested along the dirt, then dug further, using it as a distraction, a means to an end, while the world burned against them all. He didn’t know the exact timing of her illness, where it started or began – they’d been busy in the Spire, trying not to die, trying to rid the realm of poisonous toxins they believed led directly to the pestilence’s spread – useless, ineffectual, even when they’d been successful in their malice, in their ploys and plots. “Around the Cloisters, I believe.” When he and Amalia had gone to her house, the air of success drifting amongst them, and stepped into the domicile to find the denizens of triumph fading, decimated, in a matter of moments. She’d lacked her fire. She’d lacked her vitriol. She’d lacked anything of her normal self – the flames churned to embers, ashes, and cinders.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#7
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
She had been very angry.” She hears Deimos’ voice, a sadness coiling in her gut. She nods as she steps back from her rose, eyes lingering on it before she looks back to Deimos with a small sad smile. He tells her it started during the Cloister, an event she hadn’t been to but had heard much about. “I see.” She admits, brushing the dirt off of her hands on her legs before she moves toward his rose, leaning against one of the taller roots.

The rumor has been the Ascended spread it.” She says softly, a frown finds her features as she looks away from her friend. “I have not spoken to the Voice about it. But I want to help, to do something. I fear people have started pointing fingers. I’m waiting for the pitchforks and flames.” She says sadly, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks back to the crimson rose with gilt thorns, Phoebe’s and her argument coming to the forefront of her mind.

I’m sorry.” She tells him, and she means it. She knows how Kiada is, how Deimos had taken on that fatherly role, had been the man in her life she needed that the Penumbra had ripped away from her. And now? To have her rampaging about in a blight frenzy? It can’t be easy.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#8
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
The Ascended: cultivators of the blight spread. There it was, simplistic in its form, in the ease of transgressions, one entire species of this human race curled and coiled to its machinations. The Voice must’ve been the perpetrator; and the unease in which they all seemed to maneuver around Wessex, along Rexanna, within meetings now made sense. He didn’t segment blame upon her though, had notions of individuality within the granules of lumped persons – had she had time to traverse into the regions? So newly Ascended? Doubtful – but there were enough of the others to have committed the deed, ignorant or compliant. Did it matter now anyways, when it was already a foregone conclusion, sputtering in the veins of those they loved? But she was right. People would gathering their pitchforks, their flames, their knives, their accusations – it had already occurred once before, their rioting arms and alms on the press of the Spire, when warriors had gone to destroy the Demon, when Ronin had lost his life, when they’d all paid witness to destruction and mayhem, then reaped it upon themselves. He would defend her, regardless of the outcome - it was what he did, it was how he lived. “Of course.” He agreed to that sentiment, because it was another inevitable swing of their lives. Blame was easy, a thing to toss upon shoulders, shout out, but didn’t decipher anything.

Look what had happened to Jigano – their vitriol and vehemence enough for him to seethe back.

His palms continued digging, using fingers instead of tools, yearning to keep his hands busy. “We just have to solve it,” he grumbled, hanging his head in the accord of the evening, bundling the rose carefully into its sanctified hole, pushing dirt and soil into its threshold. Her apologies weren’t necessary, not now, not when there so many other things unraveling around them. He didn’t have the answers, the machinations, or the calculations to preside in its mire: he’d tried, he’d failed, and he didn’t know where else to go or venture, merely following Vi’s path now, intertwining gilded roses into the ground, pondering when winter would take its hold on them.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#9
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
She was no stranger to the events that took place after the fall of the barrier. She had been there when Rory spit out his vitriol at her, she had been there to see the Naturals rise up against the Outlanders. She had been there for much of it, and her nose wrinkles in a small amount of distaste at the idea of it all before she shakes her head at his agreement. Had she had breath to sigh, she would have, but instead she leans against the root of the tree with a slightly raised brow toward him.

She watches him dig, hears and contemplates his words, before a thought hits her. How odd, how strange it would be to go to yet another Shrine with him. The last time had been to Safrin’s, and they had both been denied. And well, this time, she at least could use a reason to visit her newfound Goddess. If for nothing else than to replenish herself, to get the sluggishness out of her system. “We could go and ask her?” She poises the question softly, summoning a small sparkler in her hand to play with before it fades away, a dual purpose of offering some light to Deimos and his planting as well.

I think Wessex might have already gone to see, but I haven’t talked to the Voice about it myself. Maybe there’s something we’re overlooking?” She hums thoughtfully, the dread and sorrow in her chest and stomach shifting toward something like conviction.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#10
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
The notion of going to any god, ever, had always been a foreign concept to him. In Isilme, they were war-torn machines, hastening battle axes and mettle, fighting spirit amongst their heathens, their glorified titans. He’d bent his form in front of their idols and wished for cures, for ways to heal the rain, and been readily ignored. In Helovia, he’d had little use for their broken shrines and irreverent efforts – the Moon Goddess had cultivated murder and used the Wildfire as her puppet, the Spark God had decimated worlds on a mercurial, tempestuous whim, and the Time God, while the Repaer had been undoubtedly indebted to him for the sheer existence of the Basin, had been an outright asinine jerk. It hadn’t inspired any holy, pious contortions to riddle their way into his sanction – and by some eerie, enigmatic turn of events, some forced procedures and preambles, he’d wandered towards temples and pedestals, hoping for answers and signs. Most of the time, it had constituted into nothing but the same old silence as before - you’re not worthy a crashing slate of syllables and phrases he’d learned to embody and expect. His latest venture, however, straight towards Safrin’s predilections, had been an entirely different venue, and he had the plumage, the feathers, and the ghosts to prove it.

Now didn’t seem like the right moment to display those things now – as much as he would’ve liked to share their new hybrid attributes; not matching, but similar in their distinctions. He’d marred that no sooner than they’d arrived.

Going to the see the Voice was a prickly thing too; a gaping uncertainty and apprehension coiled in his gut. “Would they tell you?” He glanced up, his tone flat, but inquiring, back towards the Penumbra, pondering if that was too sharp or harsh, if the machinations of gods extended to lies and duplicity for the sake of their methods and goals. What was the purpose behind spreading the blight – if that was what had been truly occurring? If it was more than just rumors? How could they end it, besides planting roses? Or was it all just a farce, and they had no chance, no opportunity at all?
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#11
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
She doesn’t know if the Voice will tell her. But she has no reason to think that she wouldn’t. Instead, she can’t help but to think about what the answer would be. Would she like it? Is there anything they can do? There was a difference between trying to recruit others for Ascending, based off necessity and choice, and while hers had been a bit of both – she wants to be sure that they can save face.

You can’t gain allies when you force them to do something, after all.

She bites down on her lower lip, arms crossed along her chest as she watches Deimos pack the dirt around the rose before a frown finds her face and she shrugs. “It might be worth a shot.” She hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know if anything can be done, but… If nothing else, I could use some more of my fluid.” She gives him a slight smile and a shrug. “We might also be pleasantly surprised.” She adds, uncertain but willing to try. For Kiada, for him, for everyone else in the Hallowed Grounds and the Greatwood affected by the blight.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#12
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
Maybe on principle, or mere second-hand knowledge, he had no great love for the Voice and the diabolical schemes behind her ministrations. While she’d clearly done a great deal for Rexanna, for Wessex, the beast had never held any inclination of becoming bright (dark and twisted maybe, but not altered and arranged without senses, without pain, without remorse). The only reason he’d be willing to go at all was to gather some insight, more intelligence, behind the notions of the blight. Was it to wipe out the majority of the inhabitants here, to gather her beloved followers beneath her gaze, to ensure they were superior, when push came to shove and the rest of them had been wiped out on monstrous emblems? It was a dastardly wake, a Machiavellian, calculating, coldblooded quality Deimos had only seen in Helovia, by masterminds of other bludgeoning gods, and the notion sent a reel of consternation in his ribs. It might be worth a shot lingered, and he was half-inclined to be his realistic, pessimistic self and say might not be, but left it silent, hovering, harpooning there in the stretch of midnight banners. Pleasantly surprised was also incredibly unlikely – only until recently had his hollowed entity been pleasantly surprised by any orchestrations by celestial beings. “Perhaps,” was all he managed to muster, rising back and away from the flower he’d planted, gaze still on it, one last guardian interval. A bitter sigh swept through him; mostly because of what was going on around them, the sentiments of malignant, wrapping qualities, and the lengths they would all have to go to even try and surmise an explanation. “When you are ready then,” he proffered, not looking, not seeing the traces of her smile, too hindered, too obliged to believe in the worst crawling through the surface.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Messenger / Diplomat ☆ Artist's Sanctuary Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 984
MP:
#13
they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
The Penumbra half expects a retort along the lines of ”probably not” but is pleasantly surprised with the simple ”perhaps” she receives. And when he’s done with the flower, she slips up beside him with an almost roguish smile despite the news, wishing so desperately to lighten the mood – to patch over them with a mask like she was so used to doing. “Come on, it’ll be like the good old days.” It’s partially a joke, but she means it too. The contemplation between both their minds to come up with a solution.

He tells her when she’s ready, and she reaches out briefly to touch his arm. The ‘sorry’s he has uttered, reflecting in her mind. And she wants him to know that it’s not his fault. That she could never imagine it being so. When it came to gods and wars, there was little to be done, and she has no place of blame within her heart for the things that have happened, for him especially. And she tries to give him another small smile of consolation. “It’s not your fault, Deimos. I don’t blame you for any of it.” A quiet admittance. “Many have gotten sick, nobody knows how. All we know is that the blight reacts similarly to my own fluid… Just less volatile. And it started in the Greatwood. Here.” She tells him softly. Is it a sign? Maybe? She doesn’t know.

But they can try. “I’m ready.” She tells him, giving him another glance to see if he’s ready too.
REXANNA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
General of the Hollowed Grounds ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 Abandoned, Level 5 Attuned - Strg: 21 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 18
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 930
MP:
#14
you aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
The good old days had at least been riveted with things he understood. He’d known and comprehended the value of sturdy kingdoms and battlements, the subtle shift in power and dominion, the bare bones of recruiting, the orchestration of other feral efforts. The Gods could be ignored while they chased down infidels and raised ramparts, while they feasted upon the blood of their enemies, while they coated their wares and upheavals with rancorous injustices. This was wholly unfamiliar and damned to begin with; and while he didn’t say it, didn’t voice it, something felt like it was another hopeless, weighted cause they had no way to solve, no immersion to measure, nothing, nothing, nothing but an endless loop of the blistering unknown. He smiled at her insinuations, but it was brief and fleeting, a lot of like any mode of contentment they managed to acquire these days – there, hesitant, swift, and quick, gone in the next moment, struck from the pages.

At her touch, he tipped and dipped his head, the consolations ringing over his ears – he wanted to believe in them, in his own vicious, self-deprecating way; he should’ve been able to protect Kiada, because that was what he’d sworn to do. This was just one more highlight in the dozens of failures flickering and bounding around them, mocking little gestures of defeated enterprises. But he listened anyway, nodding, striving to soak them into those perilous wounds and scarring grudges. It had started in the Greatwood, along the Mathair, its roots sunken into the ground, then unwinding into the ether. They probably never had a chance.

The beast nodded again, meandering into his feral silence, where he thought too much and occupied stillness, reticent, nonchalant space, so the world didn’t seem him flailing and faltering. Only when she pronounced she was ready did he extend his arm, an imploring gesture, he would follow, dutifully behind and guarding. “Lead the way.” Because he didn’t know where anyone prayed (or likely, in his case, snarled) to a Voice, or if it would hold any impact at all.
but you're terrified of
letting anyone in
DEIMOS


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)


RPG-D