no solace in idle conviction

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