DEIMOS
The stranger sauntered over, asking about plans – and initially, there hadn’t been one. The Reaper, the Sword, would’ve been content on his own, lost into the melancholy of the fire, the spreading of claws, of monster inhibitions and indulgences, of slinking and meandering into rapacious edges. It would’ve instigated isolation and detachment, played right into his strengths and accords, to merely damn himself and meander along silent deliberations. But nothing and no one was keeping any of them here. His business hadn’t been to entertain, but to try and put pieces back together, try to assemble something out of ruins. “You may leave when you wish.” There were no tethers or ties, no expectations, rising from his crouch, tugging his gloves back along palms, as reticence and reserved as the day the he’d stepped foot within Caido, eyes narrowed for a moment, exhaling on a slow, withering sigh, before striving for something better. “My intentions were to gather what we could, reuse or recycle those still useful, and destroy what is not.” No sense in permitting more debris to settle, what good were broken portions of wood, jagged fringes, or burnt anomalies? His jaw clenched as his gaze settled upon the wagon, already burdened with layer upon layer of refuse and waste; ashes on his tongue, in his lungs, reminders that he didn’t really amount to anything.Rebuilding – he’d asked Remi before, about renewal, about a way for him to apologize beyond meager regrets, but the alchemist had refused, stating he and the Fallen Star were going off, away, away, away. He connected the lines though, the way Kiada spoke, I haven’t figured out yet, and the responsibilities suddenly heft on both their shoulders. “Taking over?” The arch to his brow was the only, slightest, trace of humor left along his face, everything else slinking in nonchalance and apathy, a show, a pretense, between wars and fires. He didn’t extend an offer of support or help; Kiada would know, would understand, that she already had it.
As for ceremonies, his glance weighed heavily down upon the already gathered bones – small, somewhat insubstantial, more and more underneath rock and rubble and nothingness. “It is likely their souls have already been taken to Ludo.” It’d been Jigano’s lantern swinging through the Monster Hunter’s Guild, alight and collected, ensuring they wouldn’t be lost out in the ether. He made no mention of Ru’in, but the boy was there, in between lines and furies. “We can bury the bones, and say a few words.” Hadn’t Amalia said something of that nature – nutrients for Rae, thanking Vi and Safrin for those years of life? It was more than things anyone had been granted across battlefields – digging holes and offering rue, choking and swallowing down all the lifelines lost. His stare twisted back to the wagon. “A little more, and then we can be done.” Then he proceeded to do just that, leaning back down and grabbing hold of burnt slabs and smoking wares, hefting them over the wooden rim of the vessel.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
