who we are and all that we're trying to be
Deimos was not one to shirk or evade a conviction, a vow, or an assurance; one of those cretins who pledged and promised, but with weight behind the ministrations. They weren’t empty diatribes or discourse; when he spoke, his words had meaning, more weight and worth to them because they weren’t so easily unfurled or unleashed. He instilled pieces and shambles of necessity, not to be idle, not to be leisurely, not to hold together conversations for as long as he could; but to proffer his oaths, his ultimatums, his devotions, or his warnings. Given the opportunity, he would show Remi exactly what mountains were made of: the rich earth doused, absorbed, and falling into nothing but white and blue, the spectral machinations of the chilling void, the way the peaks rose into the heavens, never dissipating, never disappearing, old like the oceans, primordial like the seas, stretched out beneath aurora hues.
But not now – not when there were other measures and motives to consider. Rexanna’s lack of harm or impactby Loren’s Spark Bird was interesting – but she also held a foot along the enchanters and mages. “Would her Hybrid status have affected it?” Or something else altogether - shouldn't fire effect them all? He'd been blown apart enough by its infernal attributes. It was another musing, uncertain, vastly unknown, no way to really test or examine the properties. Had they tested a full-Ascended, like Wessex? Like any of the others? Had any other circumstances unwound themselves, granting them some kernels and granules of information? LongNight was damned to be another trial and error thread, reacting based on whatever seemed to unfold and unravel their way. The more preparations, the better off they would be – yet, the unknown was still a massive, gaping hole, an aperture, a threshold, for the monsters to sink within. All of it would remain to be seen – which just made it all the more difficult to counter and conquer.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
