making maps and drawing shots

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Insinuations and perceptions were always intriguing to listen to – introspection brought to the surface, thoughts, ruminations, and interest brimming on the line; but some either uncertain, precarious, or difficult to decipher at best. In regards to most of Loren’s proclamations, he didn’t find much at fault, however, there were undercurrents of either lies or hearsay brandished across them, and then decisions mounting from false information. The General wasn’t about to let them rest. “As far as I am aware, I am the only one currently possessing Life Drain. Since I have Zuriel, you do not need to make special consolations for me.” Perhaps he was ignorant of anyone else brandishing the incantations, and if so, he would retract his statement. But the others, especially with the notions of experiences with the monsters, with their shrieks, with their howls – Deimos only had notions of their alterations in pitch and diction, the way they slithered outside the portals and boundaries, hoping to snag and catch someone unaware, intending to trap and ensnare from within. Maybe some were capable of shifting entirely – but he hadn’t been exposed to any such record. He bristled a little at the insinuation that his notions wouldn’t help; they would be better than nothing at all, opening the aperture for anyone or no one – leaving either more individuals to die on the doorstep or for all the demons to come. “If you do not have another suggestion, you are welcome to be the doorman.” He wasn’t usually one for snark, but the irritation in hearing some of Loren’s expanded depths had rankled and irked, especially some of the latter bits. Amalia going to the Temple? Unlikely. Where had he secured such notions and sentiments? Deimos clenched his jaw, complete reticence securing over his features, but the rage lingering, simmering just below his skin and bones. “Amalia has made it clear to me she does not plan to stay at the Temple.” Since she had died there last year, since she had been brought to its depths to be healed and he’d carried her lifeless body into the space and held her down while Vai somehow managed to find and breathe new life into her. And all the while, he had glanced at Wessex, incapable of staring at Loren any longer, swallowing down the bile on his latest simmer of exasperation. Towards her compliment on the map, he merely nodded, content to help; listening to her suggestions instead. He absorbed them, understanding he was capable of making endless black cloth, but the snow moss would not be so infinite; on their own a nuance even if there was a small portion of him pondering over how to set up an alarm system for one another, just in case. Then the decision came down – to the Temple – and there he dug into his ivories again, releasing a sigh; Loren’s false information had led them down into these ramparts, exactly where Amalia and a number of them wouldn’t feel safe or secure. But he’d already made his thoughts and motions clear on that aspect; perhaps something could be altered in the veracity, in the clarity, and not on whatever Loren had managed to string along. His weapons declaration hadn’t gone over well either – and so it seemed any and all preparations on that front would be sidelined indefinitely. He hid his mild disappointment, but would adhere to the Queen at least on this front; she was a Natural, she’d experienced it far more than any of them ever had. “Understood,” he intoned. The what ifs still seared though, seditiously clawing through his Machiavellian mind. What if there came a time when they needed a weapon? What if the monsters somehow got inside? What were they supposed to do then – become sitting ducks? So, as it stood, they simply couldn’t allow anything to cross those sanctified thresholds. He paused, inhaling, exhaling, retaining, reclaiming, his imminent, cool, calm composure. “Is there anything else we should be aware of?” And then they could go, to preparations, to defenses. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace