DEIMOS
Trust; an eternal trust and bonds settled amongst those mountain lairs and harsh winds, too much time spent on rapacious, mercurial, and devastating whims to be anything but allies, thick as thieves with their unrelenting prowess for plotting and devising a multitude of tactics. Left to their own devices, they would’ve eventually found something – the summits, rime, and glaciers were more than he could ever expect. But alone meant confidential expanses, and the wicked glint of his smirk followed through; unseen, unheard, except for the infernal existence on his features. Valued cloak and daggers again, fuel and fire, conspiracies and theories. “Yes,” unless Zuriel counted, but those secrets weren’t shared or utilized except with one another.
He leaned in closer, listening, listening, listening to the depths of possibilities and intrigue. Sure enough, the portal was in the Mathair, as they’d pondered and wondered and thought along those intervals and lines of fog and mist, amongst the book pages, looking out from within. He slipped the word, Halo, along his skull, a brandished execution of things that might’ve been synonymous with the Aurora Basin, but never motions and worlds ruled by seraphs and angelic qualities. The fact that she’d helped to open it, however, was entirely new. “How did you manage that?” Some other fiendish quality? Some other outset they’d been unaware of? When did this all occur? His inquiry held no malice, no menace, naught but the segments of curiosity and intrigue, a sharing of information.
Then of course, came the rasp of irritation to settle along his shoulders, his figure. Zariah is there like some sort of cruel, crude echo. They’d all enjoyed the peace and repose of her absence; he hadn’t heard any other notion or reaction to her consignment towards oblivion. “That is a shame.” But why was she there? Had she taken over another kingdom, moved on from theirs? Or was there something else going on?
He leaned in closer, listening, listening, listening to the depths of possibilities and intrigue. Sure enough, the portal was in the Mathair, as they’d pondered and wondered and thought along those intervals and lines of fog and mist, amongst the book pages, looking out from within. He slipped the word, Halo, along his skull, a brandished execution of things that might’ve been synonymous with the Aurora Basin, but never motions and worlds ruled by seraphs and angelic qualities. The fact that she’d helped to open it, however, was entirely new. “How did you manage that?” Some other fiendish quality? Some other outset they’d been unaware of? When did this all occur? His inquiry held no malice, no menace, naught but the segments of curiosity and intrigue, a sharing of information.
Then of course, came the rasp of irritation to settle along his shoulders, his figure. Zariah is there like some sort of cruel, crude echo. They’d all enjoyed the peace and repose of her absence; he hadn’t heard any other notion or reaction to her consignment towards oblivion. “That is a shame.” But why was she there? Had she taken over another kingdom, moved on from theirs? Or was there something else going on?
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
