[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

Ah, there it was. While he hadn’t experienced the prejudice of either Naturals or those who didn’t take kindly to the Abandoned contortions of the world in some time – perhaps because they all knew one another relatively well, had assisted in rescuing Fae from cave-ins, and hadn’t brandished pitchforks or fire during any latest ventures - but it didn't mean the notions still didn't exist. He did as he was told, standing still with nothing placed on his features but a stony composure and lingering sigh softy billowing its way through his nares. He watched, just one more witness, as the woman assembled her rage and vitriol, and he accepted it for what it was, the owls quickly maneuvering despite any injuries, listening to her abilities. In fact, he said nothing at all to her, turning his head and not even bothering to roll his eyes. But at Loren’s constant spell-casting, the ogre appearing, hacking away at the tree, and going off to carry it, the General arched his brow, pondered over why all of that was necessary – quicker, perhaps, but more draining in the meantime. “Save your strength,” he beckoned, encompassing either enchantments, invocations, or brawn – indicating to the ogre, if it should listen to his directions, to place the log on the sled, as was always his intention. Deimos had no issue with using his own means and measures of vigor; especially since Loren might need his summoning capabilities later, when they were building. “You pull, I will push.” It would save the other man some measures then too, and the Sword lingered behind the sled, muscles arms, broad chest, warrior-built form positioned, ready to exert force on the ramparts, waiting for the beast to hopefully follow through on his plans. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate