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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#1
DEIMOS
And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
Beneath the tapestry, the Sword opted to stand, studying the complexities of walls and overhangs again, pondering if they’d done enough, reinforced enough, and if he should be doing more, more, more, and the restless energy seared over him again. Like fire and brimstone, like contorted, coiled preludes to disaster and ruin, when everything bunched and contorted within muscles and abominations, and he wanted, yearned, craved to unleash something other than his exasperation. Perhaps it was the close quarters and inability to rampage out into the evening, perhaps it was simply that he couldn’t go off to hunt, to wander, to seek out mountains pressed into the wakes of other portals.

He released a hard-edged sigh, glancing over at Zuriel, tucked away by the hearth, and the meandering crowd, wondering, eyes narrowed as he found an unoccupied chair. A seething edge came over him, fingers gnarled together in fists, and he could feel the ruminations, the reverberations, of long lost blistering accord, like days spent along embers and anarchy, the twist and turn of revolution and sedition. Back when he could rampage into war and ash. Back when he could obliterate and devastate. Back when he could unravel plots and schemes, back when their Thieves, their cloaks, their daggers, were more than just words and phrases, but actions and consequences, vitriol and vehemence had purpose, had meaning.

And as he turned his hands over, the rough calloused palms held flames – molten and hot, but his and his alone – eyes widening as he stared upon the blaze.
master of nothing place;
of recoil and grace
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#2
Eventually he had cleaned himself up. The blood had been washed from his skin and sponged from his clothes, though it left dark splotches behind. He hadn't been able to bandage his shoulder on his own though, not from where the monster had punctured it on its way off into the shadows, and the wound still seeped fresh red occasionally when he moved and pulled the scab away from his skin.

He couldn't afford to be weak for what was to come, though. Kiada would need him at his best, even if Caiside's death had brought him low and aching with loss. Ludo and Safrin both had indicated that he needed to get over his need to atone and lay down the burden of guilt that he carried like a second skin, but it was so very hard when people he cared for kept dying because he wasn't enough.

He couldn't let Kiada join them.

That thought propelled him into motion once more, leaving the dead for a time to regain a semblance of humanity and seek out the help he needed. He couldn't find Remi and Isla - perhaps they were still out with Sam? - but there was still another unicorn in the place. Unfortunately, she didn't like him very much.

The bard walked through the main room towards a looming presence near a tapestry. Deimos was never hard to pick out of a crowd, but then, neither was Jigano. White hair was pulled back tightly in a tail, free of blood (for now) and gleaming like a beacon in the firelight. Then, too, there was the lantern he held curled protectively in the crook of his arm, unwilling to let it - and the souls it supposedly held - go.

"Deimos..?" he started to say, attempting to break into the reverie that had distracted the General, but a glow erupted from the big man's hands, fire dancing tame and contained within the callused palms. "Gods most fortunate," the bard breathed, momentarily distracted by the sight.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#3
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
At the first inclination of the fire reflecting in his eyes, all he could fathom was Ignatius, the FireSword, the name tucked at the end of his first, a title pressed in memories and exuberance, flames he enamored, a presence he admired, wanted to be like while he drifted on sandy shores. It hurt in a way that he couldn’t quite explain, uncertain if this was some genetic, inherited trait suddenly unfurling due to the abhorrence and restlessness contorted in his presence, or just growth, an extension of all the other magic combined in these parallel sources. He swallowed down the bile, the ache, throat contracting over the emotions and sentiments, fingers closing over his fist, waiting to feel the embers licking at his skin. But they didn’t burn, didn’t tarnish, didn’t relish his might; and when he unraveled his fingers again, it still seared, like a pleasant hum, like a relic of his father, like a symbol of his heritage twisting and turning through shoulders and lungs. He could’ve tasted ash and embers, coal and dust, and might have asked the gods had they been anywhere in the guild hall, but there was no mercy or answers here, not in the lines of darkness or the searing tone of his newfound power.

Another’s voice stole him from the inferno, eyes darting upwards almost in surprise, incapable of rendering his routine reticence in time, before puncturing and piercing upon Jigano – still bloodied, still brutalized, still traced over from moments spent between doors and fragments. He said naught at first, just billowed one harsh breath, a sharp, weighted sigh, before his stare riveted to Zuriel. Their connection permitted a solitary moment of defiance, and then she rose from her position by the heart, every inch the smug, obstinate beacon, and didn’t deign to dip her crown, her head to the bard, but rather inclined the barest touch of her horn, allowed the healing void to spread.

Then he could address the other factions.

“Perhaps,” was all he could say at first, kindling further flame simply on a hunch, on a whim, the fire bunching and coiling and then extending it upright, majestic in its ascension. “How do we keep acquiring these things?” It was question for the ether – for the Sage, for anyone who thought they had a damned clue.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#4
Deimos looked as surprised as the bard felt, and Jigano realized it was one of the few (only?) times he'd actually seen that expression on the General's face before sighs and silence followed. Whatever was happening was unplanned and unlooked for, and the loreseeker stood silent as Deimos turned his attention to Zuriel before Jigano could even ask for the pair's combined aid. Haughty as a queen she came, and in spite of the opinion she held of him she granted her healing power. The bard flinched as soothing warmth sank into his skin warmth he didn't deserve, not after letting Caiside die alone in the dark but he found himself relaxing without intending to as muscle and skin knit back together.

He drew in a breath without pain for the first time since he had stepped out the door, and inclined his head gratefully to the unicorn. "Thank you," he murmured. Isuma chirruped quietly from his back, popping her head out of the hood where she had been dozing, hidden by the fall of his hair to add her thanks to Zuriel before Deimos reclaimed the pair's attention.

Fire danced once more in his hand, obedient to his whim and Jigano felt his throat tighten at the sight. Edy had once played with fire in such a way... Rory still did. Alone at the farm while Jigano played hero and failed friends. For a moment he felt the fear rise in his throat, sinking sickle-claws into his heart as Rory's face imposed on Caiside's mangled body, but he pushed it away, reminding himself to trust his mate and the protections they had laid around the farm together.

"Need," he said softly to the question instead. Perhaps it was rhetorical, but perhaps not. He and Remi had discussed such things once as well. "And luck. And sometimes the whims of the spirits of this world. Power stretches and grows the more we use it. At least, so it has seemed for myself and the animals I can become."
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#5
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
Zuriel inclined her regal crown and gave him some withering look, even at his acknowledgments of her craft, glowering until her eyes flickered to Isuma, gentling a motion, before sidling away entirely, back to her place by the fire. For all his efforts, Deimos simply shook his head, reeling his eyes away from the unicorn and conceited whims.

The General had brief moments of Edrei’s fire to recall and remember – her burning of his wares for the luxere, the crisp flames sinking into vampire gourds, the flash and vitriol of her vehemence behind her eyes as they sought revolution and she did not. He clustered together another sigh, a barbaric collection of the unknown, paralleled with more inquiries even in the midst of the bard’s answers. “My father had fire,” he started, eyes going back to the flames rendered in his hand, pulsing and coiling, shaping into something else altogether as he withdrew and it rebounded into a tiny inferno in the center of his palm. “So I thought -,” he didn’t finish the sentiment out loud, it felt too close, too much, stinging over portions of his soul. So I thought it might be part of him played far too near his heart, threatened to consume and devour and he wasn’t falling in pieces and embers around the Sage. So I thought maybe I had some of him within me also chiseled and sculpted its way in his ribs, in his bones, in his marrow, in his flesh, burning, searing, and smoldering far more than the fire along his wake.

Based on Jigano’s answer, perhaps it didn’t matter – Ignatius’ expanse might’ve been rooted elsewhere in his son, far beyond the scope of other worlds and war, where his wild, raging spirit couldn’t be contained ,and the little boy with death in his whims had chased down those beloved coals and cinders until he couldn’t find them anymore. Whatever breath he’d held fizzled into nearly nothing, closing his fist again. The fire retreated, back into its threshold, its diabolical means, its unknown parameters. Need and luck. Fortune and necessity. “Can you become any others now?” His head tilted, puncturing gaze landing back upon Jigano, craving the mantle of his newfound invocations to be scraped away all of a sudden, more ghosts and wraiths in his sanction, peeling and chipping, segmenting inquiries towards the loreseeker instead.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#6
He watched Zuriel make her stately withdrawal, bemused at her attitude but assuming it to stem from the fractious friction that flared up so haphazardly between he and the mountain who walked like a man. For a brief moment he wondered what things might have been like between himself and the General if Amalia had not been theree, wedge and binding both between them, but his heart was too heavy for whims right now, and his soul too raw with grief. The notion died before it bloomed, withered on the vine of his thoughts as he turned back to the mage - the mage-Attuned, now - and for the first time heard something of the family that the big man must once have had.

A father who was also a fire mage? Deimos seemed more a man of icy windswept heights than fiery conflagrations. Even his rage was a bitterly cold blizzard, at least what Jigano had seen of it. But for some inherited inferno to manifest itself now? "It's possible. More likely than most, even," he admitted, glancing down for a moment at his own hands. One held the lantern, the other was empty... but there were small calluses there, atop his sword calluses, from the work he'd been doing with Caiside at the forge.

Caiside...

The fire winked out, as Caiside's life had, and Jigano drew a ragged breath as he grasped after the question like a man drowning, reaching for the air. "I think you've seen them all," he said, voice shaking for a moment before he sought to firm it up. "But when I arrived I had only the one I was born with. Last LongNight, when we were fixing the perch, we needed to run a rope up through the top beam... and I found myself cloaked in a raven's feathers to carry it there. Then the night we were tested by the river spirit I left with a horse's hooves. And when we went down into the Spire's basement to... find... the Tulmhainar," not save it, no. They had certainly not managed to save it in the way that Amalia had hoped, but perhaps they had freed it all the same. "I found my snake's scales mores resistant to the poison." He shrugged a little, reaching up with his free hand to rub at Isuma's head as she cuddled against his neck. "But since then... no, nothing more." Because he doesn't know he's leveled up yet.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#7
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
Maybe it was simply growth, a product and machination of all these other maneuvering parts, a pattern, a clockwork cycle, the longer one stayed, immersed in the pandemonium, the trials, the tribulations, the better they became (if they survived). Perhaps he wanted it to be edges and lining of Ignatius though, boisterous and incandescent, reigning over tides and shores, blistering the world with his presence, a likening he would never have. Too coiled in upon himself, too struck down by disaster after disaster, too hellbent on raising power, on unfurling might; and now, bewitched by ghosts and memories of a life he couldn’t have anymore, hadn’t for a long, long time. The Sage could’ve been doing him a kindness by anointing the possibility, the probability, and it sunk, harpooned, nettled at his flesh and bone, until the fire vanished from his hands, wondering if the hurt lingered in his marrow because there were simply too many lost things to deal with – all careening back on embers and cinders, the brandished coal, the dimming coast. He said no more on the subject, thought about hanging his head, about drifting back into seas.

His eyes glanced back to Jigano though, descriptions of shifts and Attuned christenings, benedictions risen from more tempestuous, mercurial eaves. “They come when they are required,” he mused under his breath, a low rumble, gaze downcast upon the floor again. Maybe they were chained, locked away until there was a certain parameter, maybe it was nothing and pure happenstance, maybe it didn’t really matter, and in the end, they were there when called, when summoned, to arms and munitions and fleets. “Safrin dropped me from the sky,” he proffered, the slightest inclination of a smile, after all the phantoms screamed and chastened, the water offering her wisdom, the rain granting her guidance, the fire assuring his survival. “So then I became an eagle.” He paused, reflected, tilting his head to examine the floorboards. He didn’t revel in the failures – they already knew those, had lived those, had died in those, had pooled around as fools for too god damned long. “I went to arrest Roana and became a tiger.” Not that it pertained to here and now. Before she’d been annihilated by monsters and slain by Ronin, she’d been locked away, placed in jail. Residual moments, or fleeting intentions, driven and scarred and mutilated until they couldn’t do anything but become more?

Then there was the other nuances at hand, death struck down upon their mantles and sanctum, despite their attempts to create a safe haven. “I did not know Caiside.” He inclined his head, fathoms glancing back at the bard’s, an open distinction and invitation in case the Sage required a moment to grieve, to understand, to contemplate, or simply to revel in what had been, instead of the overwhelming loss. If not – that was fine too, and they could stew in silence.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#8
Even under his breath the General rumbled, a basso profundo comment that had Jigano only shrugging. There had been other trials, other challenges that surely could have benefited from a form that was stronger or fiercer or more dangerous than what he could currently claim. Foxes and ravens were agile and clever but hardly dangerous. His horse form was useful in many ways, but an enraged herbivore was still easy prey for a pack of decent-sized predators. Even his serpent form lacked venom, being more defensive and protective than threatening.

But perhaps that was because he wasn't a warrior like Deimos was. He listened with a flicker of his old curiosity chasing the mourning shadows from his eyes for a moment as the General revealed something of where his own new talents came from. That, and the slightest hint of an unexpected smile from the Sword that was a sliver of moonlight in the longest night. Safrin's touch (however abrupt and potentially lethal) to grant an eagle's flight? It suited the General, but Jigano hardly needed to tell him what he already knew. The tiger shape was news to him, and a brow quirked slightly in curiosity, but Roana's name was a reminder of the dead and the light faded from the bard's eyes as he dropped his gaze again, nodding quiet thanks for what Deimos had shared.

Caiside's name in the past tense brought a tightening to the corners of his eyes, but the invitation was not unwelcome. "He was my friend," Jigano said quietly, the words slow and carrying a full measure of grief. "And a member of my guild. We came from similar worlds and our fathers were both smiths." He flexed his hand against the returning forge calluses on it, remembering Caiside's lessons. "He... had the form of a great stag, so dark his fur was nearly black. He... helped me learn to overcome my reticence over using the Attuned mindlink." Every reiteration of the past tense was a blow that drove the loss home deeper, but it gave some solace to share his friend's name so that others would know it and remember him in some way.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#9
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 lived in the hollows of silence, comfortable in its shadowed embrace; in the fleeting nuances of quiet, where he could brood, where he could think, where they could seethe and flicker apart without the rest of the world casting its eyes on their slivers and fragments. Triggers and needs, necessities and means, measures Machiavellian and precise, or haphazard and emotionally charged; shifts cultivated in the rage, in the moment, in the haze of precision or nothing at all. He had naught else to go off of, the only experiences from his friends and his own, sometimes barbaric, sometimes twisted, sometimes brewing and brooding alongside the feral, beaten paths of the nefarious and clouded. But if there was any curiosity from the bard, it faltered away; out of character, causing one of the monolith’s brows to raise. LongNight had rendered them all rattled, disjointed, out of flux, disproportioned.

But the invitation towards Caiside and the materials of his once-existence sparked something, and for once, oddly, Deimos was the one pulling information out of the Sage, coaxing memories from ash and soot. He sketched an outline of the friend outside the doors, a member of the Loreseekers, similar worlds and kingdoms, smiths, stags with dark shades, reshaping the way Jigano glanced at shifting. His eyes narrowed, pondering, thinking, imagining, not knowing the man at all, another unknown consumed into the muck, murk, and mire. How will you honor him? nearly passed through his teeth and over his tongue, but he presumed the bard didn’t want to be questioned or queried in that way, would take it in the wrong gestures. “Let me know if you want help in burying or…,” however they honored the dead here. A pyre? He shrugged, attending few funerals on these grounds; his friends had always been anointed by his digging prowess, his few words, his nefarious, withered heart.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#10
For all that Deimos and Zuriel had been nothing but kind since he had sought them out, he was so sunk in his grief that he was still surprised at the offer of assistance in sending off Caiside's mortal coil. In truth he hadn't even thought that far ahead yet, too caught up in the now to have a plan for the later. A later that might not come for any of them if the Hall's defenses didn't hold. Before LongNight Jigano had been fiercely adamant in his belief that they would survive and see the other side of it.

That belief had been badly shaken by Caiside's death, and Jigano was only just beginning to look towards the next hour, much less the next week.

"I... thank you," he said quietly, reaching up to scratch gently at Isuma's back. "There will be... fire, I think. He was born from fire, and always regretted his loss of it here..." His glance flickered to Deimos's hands, drawing in a short, sharp breath at the reminder of the new magic the General had just manifested. How envious Caiside would have been to see it. "A funeral pyre, yes. We'll need to gather wood, after... after this." It wouldn't be easy with the dampness of Flowerbirth rains and melting snow making things a wet mess, but Deimos's new power would help to mitigate some of that. "I would appreciate your help in preparing it."
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#11
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
A pyre; he was more accustomed to sifting through dirt, through beleaguering a cumbersome weight across his shoulders and down his arms, allowing the aches, the pains, the nuances to shuffle through muscle and marrow too, as if he’d earned the rue, the regret, of another life gone and his not. But building it likely wouldn’t be difficult, wood upon wood, a final resting ground of planks and timber, nestled amongst kindling, still and prone figures ready to be sent into the void, their souls long since gone and extinguished, just their ashes to follow. The only unknown of thereafter was how many others they might have to construct and render, burning, burning, burning into the air, after LongNight finally met its end. For all their preparations, tactics, and knowing far more than they had the previous year, it didn’t seem to have mattered much at all; they still went out, others were still left behind, and they still died.

The notion of fire – life and death in this venue, in this realm, curled and coiled against him, in the sanction of his palms where freedom, liberation, and deliverance simmered and smoldered, lithe embers ready to be ignited at a moment’s notice. It represented survival, warmth, heat, molten infernos, protection, but demise too, scarred remnants, scorched earth, lives lost. “You will have it.” He nodded, before his eyes glanced back to the floor, over the hearth, along the wayward walls.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
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#12
Jigano gave a tired nod, a stray pulse of gratitude slipping through an Attuned bond he still wasn't used to feeling Deimos on, though no words accompanied it. A promise to tend to the dead, at least one of whom was - had been - a friend sent a shiver of deja vu down his spine, remembering other pyres on other worlds.

Other friends, brothers and sisters in arms, brought down before their time.

His own eyes drifted down to hands that had been cleaned but still smelled of Caiside's blood, or at least held the ghost of the scent in his mind. Not his first body, no, but each one he knew was still a blow. Isla, Emmett, Edy, Lucas, 108... the list grew longer every season, each face added to the ones that had followed him from Numeria. He closed his hands gentle, fingers flexing against his palms as he exhaled and tried to look past the ghosts that clouded his vision. "I should go back..." he said quietly, glancing over briefly to Deimos's hands and the fire they had so recently contained. In another time congratulations might have been in order. Now? He could only hope it was enough to protect the General and their loved ones from the dark.

He didn't leave so much as drifted away, a pale shadow in the crowded hall as he retreated back to the deathwatch to conserve his strength until Kiada needed him.


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