DEIMOS
Remi’s cheerful grin eased the tension in his shoulders again, a little like old times, instead of bitter recollections of pieces gone, malformed, or simply extinguished into piles of ash, rubble, and simmering embers. The ocean would’ve been a monumental thing too – he hadn’t touched upon moonlit sand or the swell of a current, wave, in segmented lifetimes, parallel moments moving him onward, forward, into summits rather than his first homeland. There were things he savored about both; reaching, reaching, reaching for those heights, for those instances again – not quite the same, but likely granules of what once was or could be. As for leaving, or departing, he tilted his head, the machinations running and churning. “I do not intend to do anything until we understand the land.” Moving wise; picking up everything and shifting into peak reaches and rising peaks - not until they’d explored it, until they’d heard, until they’d seen, until they’d visualized and pieced together their next set of actions. It was another set of calculations, something he’d always, eternally, corresponded too, pondering over the complexities, of the information he’d been told. As far as the Artisan’s Guild was concerned – it’d been namely three or four of them amidst its columns, with those seeking items or artifacts, with them extending their wares as best they could manage. He only lifted his brow at the notion of it catching fire; not delving too far into bristling components. “Perhaps we can find someone interested in it.” In more pursuits, in not letting it go to waste – he almost detested the notion of abandoning it, like it was another series of losses, another core portion of lives left to rot, wither, and decay when the next exciting thing came along. Then, there was another contortion to his caution, based on Rexanna’s prior words. “I am heedful due to the thought of Zariah’s existence there. I was told she has played a part in all of this.” Because one experience had been enough of a tyrannical tirade, and the uncertainty, the precariousness, of those notions only caused the slightest sting in advancing upon the mountains.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
