[PQ] Raise the Roost

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

The Sword hadn’t intended to rip anyone away from their tasks, and stood there befuddled, perplexed, and somewhat asinine; no amount of calculations, experience in felling trees, or molding ineffectual endeavors had lent him into this experience. Loren arrived, and though Deimos waited for some round of laughter, it didn’t come. Appreciative of that, he refined his notions back into the fold, nodding, concurring, and sighing. “Agreed. And I do not want to life drain them.” It wasn’t their fault that he’d chosen their safeguard to utilize as a part of a perch, and the owls reminded him of Amalia – so he shook his head, drawing his mouth into a line, machinations resurfacing as he watched the male struggle (he chose not to dive into any further reflections on that part; he’d replayed his efforts in Spires and other stupid motions too many times already). “Can you heal from afar?” He wasn’t sure about the particular details of healing, mending, or assuaging (his skills were nowhere near soothing measures; drawn and sketched upon opposites with their parallels of death) – if it required touch, or if it was like Zuriel’s, uninhibited, strong, capable of being forged and extended without need of finesse or strokes. His own incantations and enchantments didn’t need any of these sentiments – just the immersion of power and prowess. “If the male is mended, safe, and secure, perhaps they can fly off together.” If that didn’t work, maybe he could create something… For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate