they took our innocent home

don't worry mother,

your daughter is a soldier

It’s been a long day. And with it, she still wants Deimos to take her up on the chance of flying with him where she’s not outright going to attack him. So with the armor and words settled, she leaves Auni with Zuriel, with the conversations and plans still reminiscing in her mind, she settles in her vulture form giving the Sword a wry look. Let’s see how agile you are? She jests to him, a tilted vulturish look given to him, referencing one of their earlier conversations of the day.

With that in mind, she spreads her large wingspan and sets off into the sky, away from Deimos’ house, ready to see what awaits while there’s clarity within her. The blight receding, mind clear and full of the stress of what’s to come this Longnight. But at the very least, this flight might be able to keep the two of their heads clear, to focus on what they have now and not what they could lose. A bit of fun amid the unknown.

---

Set right after the last thread when Deimos makes her armor <3

KIADA

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

DEIMOS

Deimos hated the notion of being predictable, as if he were an open book, capable of being read out loud to passerbys – the way he so easily grasped hold of Kiada’s challenge, a shake of his head, a roll of his eyes, before they were out the door. But he lived for dares and summons, provocations and incensed chicanery, devious exploits and duplicitous efforts, and those in his life seemed intent on pressing them into his sights, into his senses, into his oblivion. Maybe it was because they knew him well enough that they could see, that they knew, when it was safe to poke the beast, when it was necessary to beat down war drums and announce some foretold onslaught, bring him back to some other form before he unraveled or broke before them.

He answered her goading and incitement with little fanfare – a spread of his wings on his front steps, plumage extending from arms, feathers rendering him to a smaller frame than her; a sienna ghost on the horizon in fast, swift measures, circling over the confines of his shelter. There was pride and some range of amusement tied into his motions, no hesitation, no stretch of the void coming to haunt their precision. It was the present, not the future, not the past, and he fed into those flames instead of all the other ones binding their souls. It wasn’t LongNight. It wasn’t the blight. It wasn’t some other wretched moment. It was merely the air, the earth, the dust, the clouds, and the snow.

So he plummeted, gliding over the tops of trees and the outliers of leftover targets lain about his rime-drenched fields. It was an unsung bid to her, a chase into the expanse.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

don't worry mother,

your daughter is a soldier

He takes her challenge easily, and a part of Kiada feels relieved at it. She’s loosened up, the cold reaching the space between her feathers, to meet skin. But she doesn’t mind, she welcomes the feel of it rather than the numbness the blight had given her. And while Deimos says nothing, Kiada can feel it as she soars after him, letting him lead the way. A lot of information had been gathered, garnered in the last few hours over breakfast, and she lets him set the tone of their flight.

It doesn’t bother her any, they both need it. And she rises to the challenge, wings pumping the air beneath them to follow the curve over the cold until she’s behind him – not in a treacherous way, not in the way she had once before when the sharp talons on her feet had scoured and impaled him, but in the way of simply enjoying. So she calls out to him, through the bond they can share now, a small amount of happiness as she pushes herself up to settle in beside him. You look pretty good for a newbie. She aims toward him with a jest, wings flattening out as the wind presses against her primaries.

KIADA

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

DEIMOS

He hovered and harpooned over the nuances of his shelter and sanctum, almost like one more protective veil, over something he’ll have to leave behind again for the grip of LongNight. Then, without growing too nostalgic, because it’s not the Aurora Basin, it’s not the lands of Isilme, it’s not the shifting sands of the Moonlit Tides, he tilted to the right, brandishing his unfurled wings along the outskirts of wood and glades. The wind bolstered, lifted, and something about the movement made him want to sink his talons into anything, a press of control and contorted regard sifting through his mind; predator and protector, incapable of melding into anything but.

Her arrival at his side would’ve inspired an arched brow, a Cheshire grin, in human form – as an eagle, he could do neither, and instead instigated some motion of shock, surprise, and bewilderment, mockingly so – self-deprecating manners when he couldn’t begin to believe others would offer him anything but slights or notes on his defects. Perhaps that was as much part of the once-king as the mountains or oceans; striving to be better, better, better. He didn’t make any measures on how many times Amalia had to hasten that he was worth anything at all. Is that a compliment? warmed its way into a chuckle, before he roamed downward, a descending notion of speed, of swift, keen upheaval, intending to make her do the same.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

don't worry mother,

your daughter is a soldier

She’s met with the feeling of mock surprise, shock, only able to send the feeling of a snort back. It’s the closest she can get to the likely eye roll she’d have given him otherwise, and with it she follows on his heels when his voice rumbles through the pathway of their bond. I don’t know. Is it? She jests back to him, feeling the remainder of the chuckle he gives before he dives and she follows on her sturdy, large wingspan.

The wind is cold and chilled in comparison to what she remembers of Leafchange, before the blight had become too much. And she welcomes it openly as she swoops back up, aiming to overtake, over throw his lead with a distinctly Kiada snicker sent his way. You know, I think my form is more geared toward warmth than the snow. It’s going to have to get used to it. She offers toward him, thoughtfully, thinking to the hope that one day she might be able to see the mountains of Caido, the frost beneath her beak and talons, the monolith stone that reaches to the sky, snow capped and beautiful in any light.

KIADA

Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3

DEIMOS

The banter rolled and failed to rankle – snorts and light chuckles, the sensation of amusement peeking over frost and rime. He had nothing to say after it; because maybe it wasn’t and he’d just dreamed up the notion – enough experience with the wings, with the feathers, with the plumage after some brief tutelage with Amalia (where he’d attempted to dive into water and it hadn’t ended quite the way he thought it would), to feel as if it wasn’t entirely foreign, or brand new, like some feeble, teetering fledgling.

He glanced up at her shadow, would’ve arched a brow at the attempts of taking his lead, pushing and gliding again, increasing the keen swiftness, narrowing his avian gaze. At her inclination though, his head tilted, clearly listening, processing, first with a light tease. That is unfortunate. Perhaps we will have to leave you behind. As if she were not still a creature of the snow and ice and rime – they all were, a portion of the mountains they’d been raised within, sheltered, sanctified, and consecrated in those haughty contortions and devilish accommodations. You do not have other forms? Wasn’t that something that happened to the Attuned, when they became stronger? Like how he had gained magic, never before touched or scorched along his palms, not until here, not until now?

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

KIADA

tell the boy you love that you are too dangerous to keep

take scissors to the strings tying you to him

It absolutely is a compliment, but Kiada would be damned if she had to explain that to him. So she lets him take it as he will, but a pulse of love and truth gets sent over the silence from his end until her next comment reaches him, her large form lifting and taking the lead if only for a moment. And she snickers with the implication that he gives her, that he’d leave her behind. I’d love to see you try. She announces back to him with a quite avian wink of her scarlet eye.

But he questions if she has more forms, in a roundabout way, and she suddenly pauses in her wingbeats to realize that Deimos doesn’t know… She pauses just enough to catch up beside him again – her head angling toward him. I got one recently actually. She sends toward him, a small amount of sadness for realizing she hasn’t showed him before, and with that up in the air between them, the Harpy tucks her wings in tight and dives like a missile from the sky.

Soaring over the snow covered grounds, she finds a nice clearing with plenty of room before she expands her wings and slides in the snow, hoping he follows her as she shifts into the Caracal. Bronze fur with ebony ears, dark tufts leaving them as her blue gaze looks for Deimos, ready to trot and meet him wherever he lands.

do not eat, do not sleep

perfection is not obtainable
by those who are weak

DEIMOS

You know I would not was all he could prosper thereafter – no, he wouldn’t deny any child of the snow a gift, a view, of the mountains, of the peaks and valleys that had once shaped them all – if it exists, beyond these reaches. That in itself was likely a dream, little pieces and pockets floating to him in slumber, beyond ghosts and haunting gestures, beyond wraiths and phantoms of the dead; it was the ocean he saw first and the summits he saw last, both wild, both tempting, both powerful and potent.

The Sword didn’t notice her pause or hesitation, content to glide, hover, or harpoon into the depths, testing mettle, strength, and accord on the winds, settling in his own parallels of defiance and sedition, daring the world to do its worst as he serpentine through its eaves. At her insinuation, he glanced at her curiously; waiting for some declaration of what she could become, more representation of something beyond the Harpy.

He watched for a moment as she tucked along herself and dove down – following rapidly, inquisition eternally getting the better of him too, scholarly pursuits sometimes overriding machinations and calculations. She slid into the snow, and he chose to tuck himself along a log still not entirely immersed in snow, talons clicking into its wooden breadth. Instead of wings and vulture exploits, she morphed and altered into more feline attributes, bronze garbed – the smaller stature and the ear tufts remarkable. Impressive he noted, because he was, no lie strewn about the sensations of pride for her. I suppose you could make do. Another tease, another jocular comment; Kiada would always make do – it was how she’d survived for so long.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

KIADA

tell the boy you love that you are too dangerous to keep

take scissors to the strings tying you to him

The comment goes acknowledged, but Kiada is far too excited to show him her new form. Quite a bit smaller than Amalia’s, but still just as fierce. Sharp canine teeth meant for destruction, for piercing, large paws for batting and pushing, long tail for balance. Her icy gaze spots him where he lands, on a log fallen atop the snow, and she casually trots over toward him – tail swinging behind her as his pride is sent toward her.

Her whiskers twitch in a feline grin as she tilts her head toward him. Oh, you suppose? She jests, reaching up with a big paw in the attempt to bat at him playfully. Her ears flicker as the snow begins to pile onto them, doing their best to knock the snow from getting into her ears, before she tilts her head toward him and sits in the snow, long tail sweeping over the ivory precipitation. This is much warmer. She tells him with a feeling of amusement.

do not eat, do not sleep

perfection is not obtainable
by those who are weak

DEIMOS

She was proud; a defining feature and characteristic of Kiada, eerily reminiscent of childhood lines along snow, and a king glancing down upon a youth who actually gave a damn about the earth she lingered upon. It wasn’t entirely the same now – but coated in places, lacquered in those same regards – bemused, he said nothing, just coiled himself amidst her superior traces. He maneuvered quickly, out of the range of her paw, flexing a wing towards her head as if in warning, but ultimately in jest.

Perhaps they were no longer mere shadows then, players of ghosts and stages. Something more, not less.

He maneuvered, shifting for her to have some room, not bothering to shake the snow off his feathers; comfortable in its familiarity, in the wake of ice and rime, in the way that he’d once been permanently winter, made for a world descended into ice and terror. Where to? clambered along his senses, permitting her to take the lead now, yielded to the ground instead of the skies.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

KIADA

tell the boy you love that you are too dangerous to keep

take scissors to the strings tying you to him

Oh, he avoids her playful paw, wing raised in protest or warning, and all she can do is purr to him with even more amusement. Fiiiiine. She jests in response, shifting to walk beside the log rather than head on as her long tail flicks behind her as she watches him make some room for her. She contemplates the question he poises next, wondering where to go next. And she’s not entirely certain where they’ve landed to begin with. Taking a moment to gather her gears of where they are, she gives him a very feline grin, large canines exposed momentarily.

Let’s go this way. She suggests, hopping up on all fours and padding through the snow in swift trots, picking up the snow from beneath them as she makes her way toward the trees, toward one of the deer paths that perhaps they might manage to spot some Luxere on their adventure in their own skins.

do not eat, do not sleep

perfection is not obtainable
by those who are weak

DEIMOS

No direction, no destination, were very un-Deimos like accords; always a plot, a machination, unfurling along his skull, bewitching and inveigling. There weren’t many days spent in idle movements or motions, especially with the pending LongNight, moments absorbed by contemplations, strategies, or preparation, twisting and turning beneath the weight of those things pressing down on their shoulders. Shrugging them off never mattered, and he wasn’t the sort – except now, when they wandered and meandered, no designation except freedom.

Which took some getting used to.

He spread his wings again, narrowly taking flight, no great surge into the skies to follow, but a gentle glide, hovering, gathering the wind beneath his wings every now and again to ensure he stayed afloat. The path narrowed and he had to linger barely over the surface of the powder and earth to maintain his aviation and trajectory. He recognized it within avian sights as a deer trail, narrow but passable, where their little shoulders could linger and a larger man’s could not. Picking them up had never been a strategy of his, simply because he couldn’t maneuver in their threshold – too massive, and would’ve spooked them long before he ever got very far, scrambling his way through branches and boughs. Are we looking for Luxere? he mentioned as an aside, endeavoring to prepare her for the inevitable ways in which the glowing antlers and enlightened creatures disappeared when his shroud of darkness loomed.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"

KIADA

tell the boy you love that you are too dangerous to keep

take scissors to the strings tying you to him

He follows her, but not from a high distance like she expects. Instead, his flight seems meandering, slow, easy to keep up with her and not leave her behind, and she sends a pulse of appreciation toward him as she trots along the powdery surface of the snow. Finding the deer trails, she swiftly turns to follow its winding paths as Deimos’ voice breaks through her mind, their attuned connection. She looks up toward the avian with a feline grin, a shift and twitch of her ears.

We might be! She jests, giving him a wink before hopping over a fallen log, following the trail to the faint speckling of glowing antlers in the distance. She has nothing to bring in terms of food, and likely they’d be scared off by the sight of the caracal, and so much against her wishes against the chill in the air, she shifts back to her vulture form and hops up onto a branch to view the Luxere from above. They’re beautiful creatures. She admits quietly toward Deimos, wherever he deigns to land.

do not eat, do not sleep

perfection is not obtainable
by those who are weak

DEIMOS

He didn’t deny the beauty of the creatures, merely agreeing and concurring through their Attuned schism. The tips of their glowing antlers were beatific lights in the distance, things they required, needed, to protect them from some segments of devastation amidst LongNight. He could appreciate their efforts, even if they avoided his presence. As if in warning, he informed Kiada as much, a hint that perhaps, if he gained any closer access, they would drift off. They do not care for me. The closest he’d ever come, to those out in the wild, had been with Amalia or other people, not by his own pursuits and persistence, their features and forms shirking the darkness coating over his soul. Except for Auni, which he added a moment later, with some pervading snicker; Kiada’s companion different from all of those still thriving in the surroundings.

But he still drifted onward, advancing as she did, pondering when he would have to cease and be left behind in their pursuit of the incandescent deer.

"who's gonna let you?"

they asked. i said

"who's gonna stop me?"