DEIMOS
She needn’t have worried about his presence – he would always be a stalwart sanction beside her.
His eyes ghosted back to hers, riveted briefly on the emptiness where eyes he’d known very well – full of expression, duplicity, a specious gathering of subtle mayhem and calm parameters, eternally aware of her powers of persuasion or overall potency. There was nothing there now, but that didn’t make her less, just altered. So he listened, his head still on the back of the chair, gaze settling away from her broken proportions and onto movements, motions, reminders of who she was and why she’d gone out into the ominous contortions.
Now Remi’s insinuations about the Ascended made more sense – the fire, the press of yesteryears and primordial things before – ancient pieces christened and anointed, then left to rummage their way through the darkness. But to what ends? What had been the point in discussing things with monsters? What answers would they have received? “Did you learn anything?” Or had it been all for naught – injury after injury, near-demise settling into their roots and spirits, chiseling its way through their foundation, new machines meeting old, and the tokens not well-received?
He breathed, easing an exhale, processing the information granted and given. Bastien being hurt immediately, likely back at the Temple (since he hadn’t been seen here), caught monsters (where the hell was it now?), nets, and then taken, scarred, bludgeoned forms. He hoped it wasn’t for naught.
The monolith might’ve murmured something else, in between the inhales and the unknown, had Zuriel not expressed avid discontent along the corner of the room. There was a discordant squeal, a draconic snort, and as he watched, arching a brow, she seemed to turn around in rapid motion, swishing her tail. What is going on? was some repeated juncture nowadays, floating through their companion bond. She seemed quite perturbed and irritated by the situation, and on curiosity, on inquiry, he rose from his chair to light the hearth – logs waiting, kindling already stocked and based, not bothering with matches or flint, with the newfound magic hastening through his veins. Unfurling heat crooned from his palms, scorching, searing flames, gesturing over the dried wood and filling portions of the room with heat and light.
His eyes ghosted back to hers, riveted briefly on the emptiness where eyes he’d known very well – full of expression, duplicity, a specious gathering of subtle mayhem and calm parameters, eternally aware of her powers of persuasion or overall potency. There was nothing there now, but that didn’t make her less, just altered. So he listened, his head still on the back of the chair, gaze settling away from her broken proportions and onto movements, motions, reminders of who she was and why she’d gone out into the ominous contortions.
Now Remi’s insinuations about the Ascended made more sense – the fire, the press of yesteryears and primordial things before – ancient pieces christened and anointed, then left to rummage their way through the darkness. But to what ends? What had been the point in discussing things with monsters? What answers would they have received? “Did you learn anything?” Or had it been all for naught – injury after injury, near-demise settling into their roots and spirits, chiseling its way through their foundation, new machines meeting old, and the tokens not well-received?
He breathed, easing an exhale, processing the information granted and given. Bastien being hurt immediately, likely back at the Temple (since he hadn’t been seen here), caught monsters (where the hell was it now?), nets, and then taken, scarred, bludgeoned forms. He hoped it wasn’t for naught.
The monolith might’ve murmured something else, in between the inhales and the unknown, had Zuriel not expressed avid discontent along the corner of the room. There was a discordant squeal, a draconic snort, and as he watched, arching a brow, she seemed to turn around in rapid motion, swishing her tail. What is going on? was some repeated juncture nowadays, floating through their companion bond. She seemed quite perturbed and irritated by the situation, and on curiosity, on inquiry, he rose from his chair to light the hearth – logs waiting, kindling already stocked and based, not bothering with matches or flint, with the newfound magic hastening through his veins. Unfurling heat crooned from his palms, scorching, searing flames, gesturing over the dried wood and filling portions of the room with heat and light.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
