Deimos
The silence drifted again, his calculating mind unleashing and brimming, a brewing sensation and accord between the dimmed smiles and the unspoken barbs, the nettles and thorns pressing in. Perhaps it was wise of Kiada not to mention that neither deity nor her would’ve cared if he’d fallen through the sky, no wings unfurled, no feathers extended, gone within an instant of hitting the ground, forsaken again. That mention and sentiment might’ve been more damning than being attacked and assaulted; somewhere along the lines, no one cared if he died once more. But left untouched and unfettered, the beast simply ate, content for the moment while Machiavellian antics ran rampant, waiting for the finer points and details of the Harpy’s latest venture.
Ludo sitting on her shoulders like a shawl earned her an arched brow but naught else – he’d only seen the deity on their crusade along foreign snow monsters and entangled, bizarre greed, but he could feel her eyes watching him, waiting for some semblance of a reaction. There was more to come, as if she was easing into the subject, and something along his jaw tightened, pondering what pending doom and damnation hovered and harpooned over their makeshift gathering. He managed a softer sigh on her notion of seeing Ru’in once more, the boy lost twice; to view, to hear, to feel, and Deimos wondered if he would have ever done the same, begging, pleading, to stand amongst and beside the rain one more moment. But he’d been too incensed, too enraged, too irreverent; they’d never bothered to aid Huyana in her dying days, why would they have resurrected her? He took the losses in his bones and in his marrow, burying and scalding them amongst all the others, so the ghosts never truly left him. Perhaps it was the same, and Ru’in never truly left her.
His gaze followed hers, to the ring, to what felt like lifetimes before, amidst lantern light and bronze foxes.
The strange, eerie, enigmatic twist of her next details were intriguing – because where would his soul have gone? Why hadn’t it gone amidst all the others destroyed, discarded, and withered? Why didn’t it journey and crusade beside those felled in the yesteryears? And if Ludo didn’t know where the boy’s entity was –
Ah, and there was the catch. Wants me to find him; during LongNight.”
Out of practice, he schooled his features into careful pretenses, a vision of nonchalance while his skull, while his cranium, was anything but. There were a multitude of things he could’ve said or done in those flickering moments, but the first was a sigh, long and slow and drawn, as if striving to overcome the struggle in his blood. His overprotective nature, especially for those he considered family, reared its barbaric qualities almost immediately, quietly brooding and seething behind his eyes, behind his teeth, behind all the other calculations and plots. Perhaps now he understood exactly how she felt when he and Amalia continued drifting down into the Spire, in danger’s clutches and claws and incapable of doing anything about it but watching from afar. “Alone?” Was all he managed to muster, ignoring his food for the moment while waiting for other semblance of an answer – nonchalance and reticence clutching over his seams. All of it seemed stupid and foolish.
Ludo sitting on her shoulders like a shawl earned her an arched brow but naught else – he’d only seen the deity on their crusade along foreign snow monsters and entangled, bizarre greed, but he could feel her eyes watching him, waiting for some semblance of a reaction. There was more to come, as if she was easing into the subject, and something along his jaw tightened, pondering what pending doom and damnation hovered and harpooned over their makeshift gathering. He managed a softer sigh on her notion of seeing Ru’in once more, the boy lost twice; to view, to hear, to feel, and Deimos wondered if he would have ever done the same, begging, pleading, to stand amongst and beside the rain one more moment. But he’d been too incensed, too enraged, too irreverent; they’d never bothered to aid Huyana in her dying days, why would they have resurrected her? He took the losses in his bones and in his marrow, burying and scalding them amongst all the others, so the ghosts never truly left him. Perhaps it was the same, and Ru’in never truly left her.
His gaze followed hers, to the ring, to what felt like lifetimes before, amidst lantern light and bronze foxes.
The strange, eerie, enigmatic twist of her next details were intriguing – because where would his soul have gone? Why hadn’t it gone amidst all the others destroyed, discarded, and withered? Why didn’t it journey and crusade beside those felled in the yesteryears? And if Ludo didn’t know where the boy’s entity was –
Ah, and there was the catch. Wants me to find him; during LongNight.”
Out of practice, he schooled his features into careful pretenses, a vision of nonchalance while his skull, while his cranium, was anything but. There were a multitude of things he could’ve said or done in those flickering moments, but the first was a sigh, long and slow and drawn, as if striving to overcome the struggle in his blood. His overprotective nature, especially for those he considered family, reared its barbaric qualities almost immediately, quietly brooding and seething behind his eyes, behind his teeth, behind all the other calculations and plots. Perhaps now he understood exactly how she felt when he and Amalia continued drifting down into the Spire, in danger’s clutches and claws and incapable of doing anything about it but watching from afar. “Alone?” Was all he managed to muster, ignoring his food for the moment while waiting for other semblance of an answer – nonchalance and reticence clutching over his seams. All of it seemed stupid and foolish.
i rule the stars, not the other way around
