DEIMOS
They’d done well with the salvageable pieces, some they might not have found without some precise selecting, nodding his head in acknowledgment and thanks. Destruction already taken care of, ashes, embers, coal, and cinders, fully hastened by his hands, and then extinguished, there wasn’t much else to do but tend to the remains, the bones. His eyes lifted upon the individuals, gaze suddenly sharp and piercing, before ghosting down to the fragments and pieces found; hardly enough to designate a small grave, collected and assembled, but they’d do so just the same. “Thank you for your help,” the beast extended and rumbled, all the other materials and conversations sliding off into the ether and vestiges, his mind entirely occupied by the foreboding ritual.None of them were Naturals. None of them had been born or raised here; and it almost felt blasphemous to think himself worthy of extending these honored traditions. His experience melded to the battlefield, to the quick irreverent slide of death and demise punctured and demolished on a millisecond, blood staining dirt, fields, and earth; digging holes to place friends within, a few words, and then onto the next catacomb, the next sepulcher. It rooted into him now, his revolution, his dominion, all the specters presiding on his shoulders. He knelt, grabbing hold of the cloth, tucking the ends gently, carefully, in his palms, the bones barely shifting as he returned to his prior position, lifting, lifting, lifting, his gaze sliding towards the barren field, the distant shroud of trees. “We can honor them now.” And he wouldn’t mind if no one stayed, if no one wished to continue, free to leave whenever they wished – walking meticulously along the outskirts of where they remained, pondering if this was an adequate area, if a marked grave where they could look over the scorched earth, or the foretold, eventual rebirth of the guild, would be enough.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
