dented metal
For Remi <3
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#1
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The Artisan’s Guild was in his sights, a stubborn, tenacious spirit building over his shoulders, in the undulations of brawn and obstinance, in the set of his jaw, in the haste of his movements. If his notions were to come to fruition, they’d have to begin soon; amidst a squadron of other preparations.

The only misgiving the Sword held about approaching Remi now was the constant bombardment of other things. How much more was the Alchemist willing to take and bear? There was the blight, heavily associated and brandished with Ronin, weddings, planning and orchestrating for Long Night, and any other wild epidemic and pestilence spiraling out from the ether. Were the lingering stakes not so high, Deimos might have left him well enough and alone, or inclined towards it anyway, capable and willing to shoulder things before exhaustion took hold of Remi. These steps were to ask permission, were to ensure safety, were to strive and uphold protection, defenses, and fortifications for impending disasters. And if the answers was no, there were always other options.

He passed through familiar stalls, seeking out the Alchemist’s preferred haunt; no alcohol in hand today, bristling and maneuvering with purpose. When he came to the kiosk, he ducked within, waiting, calling out amongst the throng. “Remi?”  How many times did the poor man have to hear his summons? The Sword grimaced for him, but waited too – one of the many who required his aid, or at the very least, authorization to proceed.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#2
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
"Deimos, come and see this." Remi said excitedly, looking up. Gesturing enthusiastically for the big man to take a seat, Remi held up what looked to simply be a children's block used for spelling. "Ahh—" He said as if needing to focus the Sword's attention as a talon appeared from the end of one of the alchemist's fingers. Scraping deep into the block and chipping off flakes and flecks of wood and paint, Remi placed it back down. "And now—" Pulling out a small bag, Remi reached in and removed a small punch of greyish dust. Looking up at Deimos with delight in his shattered stare, he grinned widely.

Sprinkling the powder on the toy, the crack instantly knitted itself back together, making it look good as new. "Ah!" He exclaimed joyfully before glancing up again at the Sword to see if his reaction of the same boyish caliber.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#3
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

To his surprise, Remi appeared neither exhausted or intent on sending him away. Instead, he was beckoned within, implored to take a seat, and other than blinking rapidly in surprise, he did as the alchemist bid. He appeared to be in the middle of something, experimentation perhaps, and the Sword only had to become another eye-witness to the series of events. He committed to the action with fervent curiosity, now a creator as well as a destroyer, tilting his head to study, focusing on the block, the curve of the talon’s indentations into its framework, and the deepening of fissures and scars. He arched his brow in the vivid silence, waiting for the inevitable, the alterations, the somehow, manifested conjecture to make sense –

And now, as if a cue to let his mind rest and merely to listen, to watch.

There was a bag – containing dust in the mage’s hands, and when he glanced at Remi there only seemed to be a grand wall of enthusiasm, so much so that he wondered if he be clamoring with excitement as well (a rare occasion; perhaps amidst the clarity of fun and departures from the norm, nothing so light and sacred lately). Instead, he leaned further into the fold, a gesture of his good faith and inquiry, watching as the powder flickered upon the toy, and it was restored instantly. And while he was not a great candidate for expressing joy, an easygoing, boyish smile managed to find its way to his features. “Impressive,” he remarked, strong and stalwart, meaning inflected in the course of the short phrase, eyes gesturing to the bag, to the filaments and powder held within. “What is it?” How did he make it? What did he intend to use it for?

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#4
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
If Deimos' reaction was in any way not what Remi had been hoping for, no evidence of it showed on the alchemist's youthful features. He merely grinned up at the large man with his too-pale eyes, the look of utter delight spreading over him like a mist. "Honestly, I do not really know. It was delivered here without a note. From what I have seen so far though—" Here, the alchemist nodded towards a shelf of what appeared to be completely normal toys, knives, cups. "—it can mend anything broken. Not magical items it seems nor anything overly complex, but...cracks, scratches, broken hilts, things of that nature? Completely repaired."

To prove this point as well, Remi etched a sad-face into the workbench with one of his talons before sprinkling some of the dust onto it, at which point the wood simply seemed to revert back to its original state. "Very handy to have around." Though, with his transmutation and creation magic, Remi was already in a position to be able to do roughly what the powder could.

"Would you like it? So you could repair things when away from the guild?" Deimos could create things just as Remi could, but there were sentimental objects for which creation magic was simply of no use. There were also times where conserving magic was helpful, as was being able to offer up the power to someone else so that you could focus on other things.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#5
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Ordinarily, they likely should’ve been suspicious about packages left with no notes, but from the current trend, the powder didn’t seem to bear any harm. Instead, it curated and crafted without the means of either creation magic or something else; purposeful in its own right. His eyes flicked from Remi’s delighted features and over the pinpointed shelf of trinkets, restorations and mending properties through cracks and scratches, broken hilts (which, given the notion of how many blades, swords, and cutlasses he’d already implored into the world, it seemed fitting they’d eventually wear and tear), and the like. Silent in his observations, a scheming, scholarly mind already at work with a thousand things they could utilize the wares for, his gaze took in the notched sad-face (once again, offering no comment but stifling a chuckle), a witness as the dust conformed to the etchings, and then reverted it back – as if naught had happened.

What the Sword didn’t expect was Remi offering the bag of useful notions to him. Astounded and perplexed, for he’d already been given the practical, convenient, and effectual bag of holding, he started to form the I do not deserve it mantra behind his teeth, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing, pondering who might serve the gift better. But glancing at the alchemist’s face, and reeling along the benevolent gesture, he failed to stray too far away, or down the wayward path of unqualified notions. “Of course,” he proffered in return, swallowing the choking bile along the path of his throat, extending his palm out to accept. “Thank you,” unraveled in a humbling, gracious tone, the indentation of a smile still there, curled along his mouth, he bowed his head slightly, staring across the expanse of work tables and still not quite comprehending when and where all these compassionate people had sprung from.

Thereafter, once he was through over-analyzing acceptance, tolerance, and kindness, the sentiments of his arrival remained, not yet out in the open, finalized, or even voiced. “I am sure you are busy,” because Remi was always at someone’s beck and call, and Deimos didn’t intend to be a bother. “But I had some questions.” He paused, thinking about ruffling through his bag, then waiting – gaze swinging back up to Remi’s. “Would it be suitable for the Artisan’s Guild to be used during Long Night?” It’d been a discussion between he and Loren amidst the Greatwood, but Deimos wasn’t certain if anyone else would find it feasible, or if it had been conversed over already. He merely wanted to help with defenses, with setting something up to ease the notion of danger. The Rathskeller wasn’t tempting this time, and the Launcelyn Manor wasn’t something he was even remotely interested in.

Then he delved into his bag, rifting and rifling before drawing out Amalia’s familiar staff, placing it along the table – the reddened glow a fixture of its ethereal capacity, a ward of protection, only increased by Remi’s skills. Deimos had studied it at length, as requested per the latest meeting, but after a series of attempts and endeavors into duplicating or recreating the luxere antlers themselves, he’d had no such luck. Pointing to the antler portions, and not the staff itself (that he knew could be cloned), he inquired. “Can these be replicated?” Could they be capable weapons for Long Night, or was that a lost cause too? Were there other means and measures they could try?

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#6
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
"Mmmm" The alchemist hummed brightly in response, thinking little of the offer or gesture on his part. He'd had so precious little in his life before coming to Caido, that even the first wiffs of magic and new shifts he'd discovered felt like blessings beyond belief. Now with more power, an actual home and guild, a husband and daughter? The alchemist could want for little more.

Busy or not, Remi would always make time for those in his life...and even those outside of it. Looking up at the Sword with his shattered but (currently) unfettered gaze, had Remi been in a shift with moveable ears they would have been perked forward with polite curiosity. Frowning slightly at the suggestion, the alchemist bit the inside of his lip before shrugging. "If you are asking if I would allow it, of course. " He replied immediately. "Though I know Wessex has other ideas about where we should all be." The alchemist added, exhaling with another boyish shrug. "We all have thoughts on the Launceleyn manor, but I had suggested the monster hunter's guild as well, since it is larger and more easily defendable. But...Jigano had thought the proximity to the temple for those who wanted to pray, and nearness to the infirmary made the Rathskeller the best choice again."

Running a hand through his curls, the alchemist shook his head slightly, not used to being in a position where his input was ever sought after on matters such as these. "But as we learned last year there are so many ways in and out...it would be hard to ensure they are all covered." As easy as it would be to simply place magical locks on all the doors, even Remi knew some would find a way out. In all likelihood though, the alchemist would probably be one of the first to break the no-open-door rule. He had last year, anyways.

Watching as the staff was pulled out of the small bag—the sight of which brought a sunny smile to the alchemist's face to see it so used—his cheer disappeared as he heard out the Sword's request. "Not that I am aware of. Anytime I have tried to replicate magical power, it has failed. I do not precisely know why, or how to ... group, I suppose, what it is I—that is, we can do—but this is beyond it. Maybe forever, maybe just for now."
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#7
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The allowance of the guild had been noted, but apparently a litany of others had been mentioned, cast aloft besides the Launcelyn Manor (heard during the meeting): the Monster Hunter’s Guild, the Temple, the Rathskeller…and based on the realm of proximities and possibilities, they might not have been feasible actions and residences. “True,” he responded in kind, brows furrowing in thought, the ease of curiosity giving way to machinations, calculations, worlds depending on the right preparations, the right means, the right measures. He’d intended to assist in munitions, defenses, and whatever else they required, depending on the location, but with so many, and spread out amongst themselves, would it be more difficult for luxere herds to protect? Were they making themselves sitting ducks? More opportunities, more places, more boundaries for the monsters to potentially cross, and feed upon? “Perhaps they should be narrowed down to three or less.” There were pros and cons to each locale; and there was always the notion of others simply doing what they pleased – avoiding the entire spectacle of gathered sentiments and kinship, dwelling elsewhere, either safe by their own measures, or lost in the parallels and parameters of warnings and omens. “Wessex, Loren, and I will be meeting soon. We could discuss it there.” Rather than have Remi dragged into something else. The Artisan’s Guild was on the table, at least, with scores of others.

As for the staff, he hadn’t meant for the cheer to dissipate – but perhaps it was simply in his nature, to rebound straight into serious modes, draining and drawing everyone else away from any figment of joy. But he listened, head tilted, that the kind of magical power couldn’t be replicated, failed in attempts, just as Deimos had, and their skills weren’t quite up to the task. It was a limitation even the alchemist had (which surprised the Sword, for a moment, because Remi had been some eternal flame of enchantments, invocations, ready abilities no one else had yet acquired or wielded, with such strength, with such determination). “I had thought to create some sort of weapons using the luxere antlers, since they were effective last year.” Perhaps he simply wouldn’t be able to – a hold, a restriction; which meant he’d have to seek some alternatives, some other routes, to ensure munitions for guards and the rest of their ilk.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#8
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
Wessex, Loren, and Deimos? Only a few days prior it had been Wessex, Remi, and Jigano. Not that the alchemist felt he or the bard any more qualified than the summoner or the Sword, and though on one hand it seemed to make sense to have a variety of opinions, on the other it seemed entirely haphazard who was invited to what meeting. Still, Remi nodded willingly enough. "The guild can be used if any deem it fit enough. Wherever we are, I think it should be together." Really, that had been his only contribution last time as well. Perhaps that's why he hadn't been invited back.

"Mmm." Remi hummed, shrugging his shoulders gently He thought of the prior year, of his hunt with Isla when as two lions they'd taken down one of the gentle creatures in a post-ascended-feeding-fog. "Their antlers are tied to their souls, I think. Or at least, they cease to glow once the animal is dead. Amalia's staff seems to be the exception that proves this rule."
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#9
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos, having had no idea of any other meetings taken place, would likely only admonish and grumble at the circle of politics. He’d had enough diplomacy in other worlds to find the whole thing maddening and irritating; all the hidden lines, all the furtive doors, all the sketchy veneers and visages. At least these knots and gnarls were meant to be embarked upon from the militia side of the house – he had no use for cloak and dagger subterfuge, deceptions, or duplicities there; no means or measures for deceit. But he took Remi’s approval as just one more on the list of constant suggestions, and they could always leave it up to the Queen to make the decision, then commit to their diligence in preparation. “Agreed,” the beast mustered, gaze flickering to the table, recalling, remembering, the way he’d brought the map of Helovia to life for Rexanna, with its icons, its markers, its emblems and banners; perhaps he could do the same at the impending gathering, and they could flush out where would be best. It would at least shape him into a less dreadful heathen and fiend; giving him something to carve and whittle with his hands, instead of standing there like a silent fool.

As far as the antlers were concerned, that appeared to be another dead end too. He wouldn’t have much to bring to this discussion except obvious, paramount failures, deepening the furrowing of his brows, losing the sense of impish decrees in a moment, setting into thoughts, into ruminations, into particles in which they were locked and scalded. “So much for that then.” His gaze lingered on the staff, an item that had already wielded its magic, saved him, on multiple occasions, in the heart and lungs and folds of Spire basements and their dreadful toxins – it would have to be the sacred thing, the exception, not the rule. “What about fire?” Or did it still have to be magical contortions – like the Spark Bird’s reach? Had Wessex mentioned it before in the meeting? The entire thing seemed like a blur now; given tasks that had no success in their roots.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#10
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
"We could ask the gods...though.." It wasn't as though the alchemist's track record on that account was any better than the Sword's, really. Yes, Remi had had more interactions with them, but he'd happily have traded it all for silence for all the pain they'd caused him. "...perhaps not me." He added with a rather dark chuckle, shaking his head.

Biting the inside of his lip, Remi shrugged uncertainly. "Well...last year we were told to keep things dark and quiet so that the monsters would not know where we were. I am not sure anyone tried to use fire against them." Ruffling a hand through his curls, Remi offered the larger man a thoughtful look. "Honestly...I am not sure what the naturals have tried in the past. It seems they were content with hiding out the week and letting things be. Anytime it has been mentioned, they have reacted...fairly defensively. Then again as outlanders coming in with plans and criticisms I can certainly see why." The point still stood though: there seemed to be much that the naturals hadn't actually tried.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#11
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Asking the gods had never been high on Deimos’ list of things to accomplish or do. Only on the rarest occasion had the notion ever worked out – and that had been to alter his soul, split it between magic and shifting – otherwise, he was ignored, an Abandoned force, faith and credence hard to come by. Devotion was to individuals and not deities, the constant string of disregarded inquiries substantial, and he preferred commitment to those who’d earned it, deserved it, proffering his strength, might, and will wherever they required. “Nor I,” he intoned, lacking the laughter Remi brought; incapable of knowing, of understanding, just how many much Remi’s journeys and crusades to temples and vows had earned him in curses, in onslaughts, in terrors – unaware and ignorant that perhaps the Sword had been better off in the long run. He tilted his head a little, fingers coiling over the staff while he brooded, while he ruminated, while he speculated on telling Remi about his latest adventure with the quests and alterations; if it was even worth noting, too little really, in the regards and preamble of the alchemist’s accomplishments. It was a toiling debate in his mind, too often saying naught at all about himself and leaving the rest of the world to muddle it out – a preference a majority of the time, only bothering to extend himself to those he trusted. Maybe that was where Remi’s presence lingered now. He dangled a thread aloft, pondered if the other beast would bite. “I was only successful on my last venture to Safrin’s shrine.” With a multitude of ghosts in his wake, some shrieking, some imparting, some imploring; all poignant, haunting measures of things he’d allowed to drift away, lost, lost, lost.

As far as the notion of fire, or weaponry at all, it sounded as if they hadn’t really been considered. In the layers of tradition, they’d hidden and tucked themselves, out of sight, out of mind, from the perils of monsters, and while he’d experienced it last year, he couldn’t imagine doing the same year after year, with no end in sight, with no means to conquer or crush the wayward demons crossing into paths, mauling, and murdering. Was it just accepted? Or were they the cretins in this game, incapable of listening, rushing out into the void, hungering for more demolition of things they didn’t understand? He nodded his head, pondering if he’s simply crossed too far merely on the notion of a way to combat things that terrorized, treading where he wasn’t wanted, investigating on the edges of you do not belong here. It was a stark reminder, so he wisely went no further, not intending to disrupt any other notions (just wanted to do something). “Understood.” So he didn’t clamber or brandish inclinations of fire and infernos, of perhaps, magical flames embedded in weapons, in a flurry of a thousand other possibilities and probabilities. “Something else to ask Wessex.” The Wraith – who’d lived here, who’d meandered there for decades, who would either declare it a non-issue or allow them to apply more knowledge in the trepidations.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#12
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
"Oh?" The alchemist hummed, shattered gaze rising as his expression smoothed out. With a gentle but subtle nod—a gesture meant to encourage the Sword to elaborate should he wish to—the alchemist left a pregnant pause waiting to see if the Reaper-that-was would want to fill it.

"Mmm, indeed. Loren can indeed conjure a spark bird...the magic of which we could place inside doors and whatnot, should anyone feel the need to leave. Although..." Ruffling a worried hand through his curls, and contrasted with Deimos looking all the more like a young boy far, far, in over his head, Remi sighed. "All of our efforts seem to be focused on us choosing to leave. But what of those who are someone caught outside, or trapped? Last year we mistakenly opened the door to monsters and then as a result left others outside to die." Jaw feather at the memory, Remi looked down at the table as colour flashed across his cheeks.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#13
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos wasn’t a beast known for great, grand revelations of his skills or prowess. He permitted actions and reverberations to do the talking for him – oeuvres on their own, best left to devices of capability or flaws. He had the latter in spades, and his lack of discourse and discussion was a pivotal point in a majority of them, but at Remi’s gentle, quiet insistence, he pondered how to tell it. With Amalia, he’d simply flown, with Kiada, he’d been split apart by the notion of keeping secrets from her, and then, along the Spire with its planted roses, he simply hadn’t said anything at all, to anyone involved. It could’ve been preamble or preludes, had they’d had opportunities to discuss or say anything at all – but danger and treachery struck too quickly, and there’d been no time for reeling into easygoing airs, alterations, or adaptations of Swords. Strung together by silence for too long, he inhaled sharply, suddenly reserved, diffident, and hesitant again. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought it up. Perhaps he should’ve kept it tucked away and hidden, where the rest of the world couldn’t find it, couldn’t find him.

Because that’s how he’d played the vast lines and scenes; furtive, shadowed, cloak and daggers, streamlined for desolation and isolation.

And for all their efforts, for all their acceptance and tolerance of him, was it fair to fade back into the scenery? It was comfortable. It was familiar. But it wasn’t moving forward. It wasn’t progressing. It wasn’t anything at all but fault lines and fissures, the rut he’d always moored and mired himself within.

“It might be best to show, rather than tell.” Resolution made, he swallowed down the barbs and nettles threatening to suffocate him – and because it was Remi, he shifted easily from man to eagle, a ruffling of feathers and talons scraping against wooden chairs, golden plumage extended for a few moments, outstretched wings and all their proud, incandescent prowess. He didn’t know if Remi could even see the morphing, the newfound glory, now that he thought about it – and with some sinking feeling maneuvering in his form again, he aligned himself straight back into man once more. “It has taken some getting used to,” he murmured, uncertain on how to proceed any longer. “But I relish the freedom.” Perhaps the alchemist would understand, and he shrugged, striving to harpoon himself away from the attention he’d wrought.

More discussions about Long Night could, and would distract and detract anyway. The notions of leaving those out amongst demons had crossed his mind, another notion to bring to the Wraith. “Last year was a mess,” he agreed. How many times had the door rattled on its hinges, and they had no idea whether to further secure the threshold or leave it wide open? How many had been sent to their deaths because of the guards inside, uncertain of the unknown? “I thought about creating some way for us to look out, through the doors. To see if we can identify friend or foe.” So others wouldn’t be tricked or deceived by monsters, or left to be consumed, devoured, by the very creatures they ran from.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#14
if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
Tilting his head to the side, Remi watched as the hulking form before him was suddenly swaddled in feathers. It was blurry to be sure, without definition or clarity, but there was enough for the alchemist to know what it was he was seeing. The site of which brought a wide smile to his face. "Well then." He whispered, shattered stare trickling up from the last remnants of plumage to where it morphed back into dark locks. "Welcome to the club." With a cheery chuckle, Remi gave an understanding nod. "Flying is quite something. Alone or with others it..." Swallowing, for a moment Remi let his eyes slip shut. Now knowing Deimos shared the attuned-bond, the alchemist pulsed images of a shining sea below. Water flashing off of waves, the smell of ozone and the buoyant thermals that came after thunderstorms. Inhaling again as if being able to taste the things he was imagining, he let his eyes slip back open with a crooked but endearing smile.

As the conversation meandered back around, Remi's expression grew serious once again as he nodded thoughtfully. "I have a piece of glass Safrin gave me. It is made to see through god-level illusions. Originally I thought perhaps that might help during LongNight but..I wonder if the only illusions are just the mimicry and not the monster's actual appearances?" With a weary smile, Remi tried not to exhale the stream of frustration that he wanted to. "It...I have never been in a situation before where I—we—cannot test anything before hand. It is all speculation, and I admit last year I was...preoccupied." With Sam. With Isla's death. With Vanya and Ronin. With Lucas' stealing Ludo's mask.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.


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