a day once dawned

Hotaru There's little doubt in her mind that he would have eventually offered to help. For all his insistence that he is a stoic man, he is selfless at heart, warm and always willing to shoulder more than his fair share of someone's burden. She holds this close at heart, knows he'll never admit to such softness and consideration. It's all the more endearing and amusing, his denials, but she doesn't want to embarrass him any further than her admission of platonic affection previously. He's likely to combust otherwise. "Thank you, I'd appreciate that. I'd like to get it set up soon, gather some hands to make the process smoother." In the coming days she'd likely announce it on the Notice Board, but even if nobody responds she's sure between the two of them they'll be just fine. Though her fair brows rise at the mention of a militia. Has she been so far under a rock, so new, that she hasn't noticed the presence of such an organization? "I loathe starting over as such a burdensome fighter, but if you vouch for the efforts of the militia I'd be happy to join." Though her natural talents have always aligned with secrecy and duplicity, she had trained hard to keep her crown, her Generals in line, her stolen goods protected. It will be annoying to start from scratch again, both physically and magically, but the end result of being useful at her family's side when shit inevitably hits the fan is more than worth it. She can't bear to be a burden on them, a weak link, but she has to start somewhere. Hotaru looks at Deimos a tad incredulously at the revelation about Midas, then hides a chuckle behind her hand. "That certainly makes me feel better about having stolen that ridiculous man." It had led to his death but well. That's not Hotaru's problem anymore, and she doesn't regret it, less so if Cera had been bitter about his father. "Though it says a lot that even the Golden Prince could not stand him." How anyone could in the first place is a mystery to her. If he'd gotten his head any further up his ass, he would have broken his own spine. And it's a comfort, to think of Cera starting over somewhere new. Somewhere hopefully free of pain, of tragedy, of the unfairness that had taken his life here in Caido. So she merely nods, consumed with her own thoughts about it.

Deimos

His shoulders were wide, strong, and enduring, more than enough brawn and vitriol to carry a multitude of towers and worlds; proffering and offering their existence for any of those willing to remain in his orbit. The beast had done so many times over, a pattern, a habit, a ritual, ensuring safety, protection, a safeguarding mantle, a sword, an allegiance, affirmations of trust and fortitude in each and every sanction – his own presence a refuge, a threshold, for anyone who wished, or required his steady, stalwart provisions and aid. The Basin once had his weaponry, his munitions, his savage, stoking, nefarious abilities, the necromancy stirred from his soul, the devastation, the ruin, the demolition promised by his infernal tirades and livelihood. His predilections had been administered, his machinations pursued, his calculations persisting – and here, the Hollowed Grounds had his experience, his sagacity, his war-torn shambles and behemoth intricacies. Perhaps one day he wouldn’t be able to endure any longer, the cracks and fissures would be too great, the weight, the cumbersome, overwhelming loads, would pierce and puncture; but for now, Deimos bore it at all.

“We all have to start somewhere,” he noted with a mischievous shrug, a roll of his shoulders with a barely-emerging snicker; fully aware of her capabilities along Helovia’s reaches, where they scrawled defiance into the earth with swords, daggers, knives, and lies, where they flayed and frayed kingdoms, where they annihilated, and where they were conquered too. Caido had a way of bringing everyone back to a ground zero – weakness, stripped and barren on their first interludes and walks from the Spire’s obelisk. The Sword had no doubt she’d return to her prior strength in no time. “There are only two of us – Loren and myself. I am hoping to continue recruiting.” The rest of this world seemingly had naught to fight over before; staying and straying in their sphere, in their bubble, until the earth burst. Until everything changed. “We will welcome you.” With open arms and cutlasses in their hands, extended weaponry and munitions, ready and willing, eager and fervent, headed straight for the fray.

Hotaru didn’t need to hide her laughter – his eyes rose with it, an arch to his brow, the saddening, despondent insurgencies suddenly forgotten in the wake of mocking arcane enemies and adversaries. “Midas left a lot to be desired.” Perhaps the Reaper had too; but he shrugged again, shaking his head at the enormity of it all, at the changes instigated, curved, unbidden, along his blood, his heart, his soul. “One may hope he does not find rebirth here either.” Then he snorted, imagining the notion.

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru His words may be encouraging, but his half-swallowed laughter and the glimmer of his eyes betrays him, so she dips her fingers in her tea to flick it at him playfully. "You know I'm an impatient woman. You'll have to keep me occupied in this militia so I don't go insane." Patience, time, waiting...she may be proficient in such activities when she is seeking out materials or information, but not having a timeline or being able to see her progress will likely make her crazy. Weakness is not something she enjoys feeling, especially when she had once been so powerful. She had once been Deimos' equal, and now she hides in his shadow, leaning on him for support and using him for protection. Though Hotaru trusts him like no other, she loathes that he cannot do the same with her. Though she rolls her eyes playfully moments later, emerging from her thoughts with no more than a pinch of her brows to have betrayed her thoughts. "You have always been helpless at recruiting. I'll see what I can do when I have some more information and some first hand experience." That had always been her domain in Helovia. The whisperer of sweet words, the manipulator of numbers and subjects, the heart that connected them all with red-stained twine. Mother of All. Finding more to welcome into the fold would not be difficult for her after so many years of recruitment. Though her face is soft, thankful, grateful for the opportunity he gives her. A place to belong. "He left more than that - a lot of progeny too." Her eyes bright with mirth even as she sips from her cup once more. Midas had not been so bad as some of the others in Helovia, but he certainly had left a sizable brood after his...shocking death. "Oh Gods, I hope not. I'd hate to commit murder so soon after my arrival." His holier than thou attitude was particularly intense, more so than any of the Caido citizens she'd met, and her temper likely wouldn't survive another meeting with the man.

Deimos

The beast merely moved back from her tea spray, out of the way of potentially searing drops. A mark of her impatience caused a slight roll of laughter, like it’d escaped without his notice, stifled shortly thereafter. “I intend to hold trainings there with a variety of weapons. There will be an armory, bunks, and a meeting place to discuss plans.” Like the old days; and that notion burned in the back of his mind, gatherings assembled beneath towering mountains and furtive tents, fabric that enclosed their words to anyone on the outside, where duplicity scattered and battle lines were forged, drawn. To her credit, because he’d known her for so long, because he knew and understood the layers they buried and burrowed underneath, he would never think of her as weak, as needing any sort of guidance. It was just a new world, and he’d had more time on it – to become acclimated, to adapt, and then to ultimately become comfortable in distortion and upheaval all over again. Familiar brands of chaos lurked here, and then some stranger, more affecting ones too, and eventually she’d discover what she was made of in this midst.

He rolled his eyes at the insinuation of his recruitment failures. Perhaps more towards the end of his reign, before the demise, he’d given up entirely – but he’d strived and tried when the opportunities struck. “Helpless? I gathered some.” Like-minded individuals mostly, those already with hardened-hearts and warrior tactics. Or ones that were simply too terrified and intimidated when he stalked from the shadows and offered them a home. Otherwise, he’d been the protector, the defender, the guard, the savage, the shadows forming around knives and swords, conforming to treachery and diabolical means so the rest of them wouldn’t have to. “But you are welcome to try. I fear with Zariah’s reign, and her forced draft, many want no part in it.” Except Deimos would never oppress or harass another into their fold – too much value in what it took to lead charges and assaults, to safeguard and shelter the kingdoms and citizens around one’s barbaric soul.

The Sword took another swig while she informed him of Midas’ prolific tendencies too – he stifled the smallest groan, imagining the world full of uptight paragons of virtue and pedestals constructed in their honor. “Disturbing and unfortunate.” A mocking shudder curled and coiled through his shoulders. At her last statement though, he only quirked his brow upwards again. “We both know that is not true.”

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru His laughter may be stifled but she hears it all the same, caught between pouting at him for evading her tea attack or smiling. Because she has to smile every time she hears Deimos laugh, experiencing joy just by witnessing his own. It's a reminder he's here and alive, with her once more. Every chuckle and boyish grin helps fade the edges of the memory of his body lying cold in the rain. But those are dark thoughts that aren't to be entertained this evening if she can help it. There are plans, goals, creations that she seizes and concentrates upon as he delivers them. "That sounds amazing. Have you already started building?" Has she simply not seen it as she wanders around? Had he not thought to come to her to ask for her aid? He is more than proficient, but she can't help but want to stick close, still wary of this world and equally possessive of her loved ones. "Let me boost my ego, how else will I survive?" Hotaru generally has nothing but praise for Deimos' reign. They are all flawed and imperfect, but he had ruled for many years for a reason. And it comes to her in waves, eyes narrowing at the mention of this name she has already heard of before. "Is she a problem we need to prepare for?" She needs information, secrets, history. Anything to plot the woman's demise if she comes sniffing around her family like a bitch in heat. If Deimos dislikes her, then she needs leverage. But she can't help how the tension in her body dissolves so swiftly when Deimos taunts and teases, unable to remain stiff and unreachable around him. He who has known her even longer than Rexanna. "You know me too well. It would probably be the highlight of the season for me." Setting her tea down she winks at him as she leans back. "Though I'm sure you'd be just as easily enticed."

Deimos

He would’ve been grateful, had he known of her inner thoughts, of her refraining from discussing his death, the crackling finality in the rain. It was distant in his memories, but still there, the purpose unclear as to why he’d been brought back at all. Instead, he could focus on her inquiries, on the speculation delivered, administered, refractions and reflections of days he’d once yearned for. “Not yet. But soon.” The Sword would post something on the notice board and then go from there, assemble some sort of motley crew to ensure it was a successful endeavor; imagining a glorified training ground, target after target, places to assemble, places to plan, places to demonstrate this world was no longer a sitting duck, waiting for the next tyrant to pick it apart. No more yielding. No more relinquishing. No more ceding. They hadn’t known beforehand, but they did now – the revolution taking its toll.

The beast snorted at her requirement of a boosted ego; she’d always had enough confidence for the rest of the world, determined to press her efforts and determination into any scalding kingdom. He would’ve told her as such, but the question deigned towards the aforementioned monarch, so his brows furrowed slightly, away from the amusement and distortions, and back into the confines of the past summer. Jaw clenched, pondering just how far to go back, just how to explain Zariah’s tendencies, if she was going to be another threat all over again, if she intended to segment her way back into their throng, no matter who reigned. No matter who commanded; always believing herself to be better, to be stronger. But the rest of them could flourish and grow too, develop new powers, undermine; just as they’d done before. “Possibly. She often threatened individuals who were against her reign or tactics.” With violence. With arrests. With postings. With omens directed towards those they were close to. Whether or not she could’ve followed through on any of the plans remained to be seen: but they’d done their due diligence in assembling notions beneath prison cells, in preparing for the worst. He made no mention of the wrath pending and thought to be administered upon either Jigano or Amalia, and the fallout laden in between. Hotaru would’ve cherished the drama.

Highlight of the season – murdering the stone-cold dictator would’ve left him reeling in triumph. He could easily admit to the truth of such a statement. “Certainly.” She’d been a menace, a maelstrom, a constant, blistering force of predilection and ruin; and as much as Deimos reveled in chaos, hers hadn’t been anything prolific or worth savoring. It’d been restless and enigmatic, twisting and turning until they couldn’t take it anymore. It’d be a return of the Reaper – to proffer a singular warning and then the rush of oblivion. Except he didn’t know how potent or powerful he could be against her – this world different, altering prowess and potential within portals and passing of time. All of them were far more armed, deadly, than where’d they begun – but she could be too.

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru It's nice to know her eyes aren't failing her, though it's a close enough thing to make her determined to explore Caido more thoroughly. She has admittedly been distracted by her family and the interpersonal relationships she has unexpectedly been forming. Knowing the lay of the land is important after all if she intends to sink her teeth into the drama of everyday living here. "Let me know when you do, I'd like to help." Particularly if he intends to assist her with her shop. Fair is fair, even if Hotaru would come to his call for the simplest aid the moment he reached out. Except he wouldn't, which is precisely why she asks him so directly. Honestly, men. How they survive is beyond her comprehension. Humor dissolves like salt in tea, bittering the moment they share with tension and a current of violence that runs in both their veins. Hotaru's sharp eyes narrow, humming softly and crossing her legs. "Then I suppose I have a new, interesting pastime." A vague promise that she will not let such things come to pass once more if she can help it. Surely this woman is no worse than Confutatis, or any of the others whose machinations had never felled their mountain warriors. Her plans clearly never came to fruition. And while delicacy is important, it's nice to finally have a target. And with that she smiles, serpentine and sly, emboldened by his agreement. "Then we should shift our attention I'd say. The way to the new realm is open, after all." Zariah is prime material to strive against, and Hotaru intends to deliver on the old whispers and victories tied to her name.

Deimos

A nod, an acceptance of assistance; tides changed and turned over a series of years. Though he’d often bestowed support and reinforcements amidst Helovia, it’d been with a Reaper’s turn: a chisel, an axe, a scythe, a sword, death and desecration materials, not building or constructive. Abductions loosened to battles, challenges shifted to invasions, and then there were all the other dramatic, ridiculous nuances laden in between. Not that here was much different – but there were less siege and assault plans, more opening of shops, of wares, and then the mottled flairs and fires amongst the rabble.

But violence, born to it, laden with it, sometimes drowning in its avarice, in its terror, in its vehemence, struck and rivuleted into contortions of their old ways, difficult habits to parse away even with years spread out from their torrents and tempests. They would always hold some of its power, of its jurisdiction in their bones, had contorted and been created out of its pervading maelstroms and convicted chaos; indulging in the irreverent rapture of ruin with steady hands and colossal immorality. At some point, they’d likely be no better here, caught in the tethers and lines of the past, running, rampaging, into the denizens of doom and damnation; he’d already delved into danger more than once in this realm, like it was a past time, like it was a diversion from everything else, when it was just normalcy. His eyes were laden with mischief, with devil-may-care, piercing quandaries, back to drawn, smoking lines and war orchestrations, insinuations of challenges that might lay ahead, a shift in attentions, like primordial beacons of conspiracies and their soulless characteristics. No tents here to keep their secrets covered; his residence the insinuation of secrets and furtive motives. “What would you like to do there?” The smirk spoke far more volumes than his voice ever could: besides explore, besides take, besides abolish a certain individual? Weren’t all those unspoken layers, weren’t those all clear, concise truths?

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru Once upon a time, years before now, laid out on a spiral of a hard-won journey between the two, Hotaru would have shifted nervously at Deimos' lack of response. She had been young and untested beneath his gaze once, newly joined and with a ferocity that had taken years to become tempered to a fine point. Nothing but dull brutality and a drive for brilliance. Taking and taking and presenting all her hard-won items, prisoners, and secrets to her regents. Deimos had been the one to appoint her to a higher purpose, a lead among her kind of people - shadow walkers, gilded tongues, all manner of sneaks and sleuths. In those days his stoicism had been intimidating to the young girl she'd once been. Before she had been elevated to a sovereign of her own right by his side, she had not understood his need for silence, for pensiveness. Now it is as familiar to her as he is. An old friend, a blanket that settles around her shoulders and lets her relax. Hotaru has always relied on words, on distractions and manipulations. There has never been a need with Deimos, and she sips her tea quietly, content in the warmth that suffuses their silences. When he does speak, it only deepens her musings, and she hums softly around the lip of her teacup. Reluctant to answer too swiftly now that he has presented the idea to her. Formless, vague ideas now cast beneath scrutinizing light as his inquiry needles at her desire for details. For machinations and plots. His smirk is like a harmony to her chorus, a perfectly paired sound that prompts her own in parallel. Dual, devious demons. "I suppose it depends on what we think of the rulers there. I certainly don't miss a lot about those days of leading, but I'll not have them impede us either." So much land, much considered inhospitable. What in the world could they want with it? Ah, but if they try to close their Citadel to her, to her people, she will tear their kingdom down brick by brick until each stone rests in her own power. "You know I'm no philanthropist, but making it more hospitable with what we have here in the Grounds would only benefit us in the end." And it reminds her of the Auroras, of coming up with a thousand different ways to keep her citizens warm, fed, and safe. Textiles, hunting troupes, magical sentries. They will simply have to start from the ground and build once more, insinuate themselves until they are as much a part of Halo as those born in those deep snows.

Deimos

Once upon a time, he’d wanted to be feared, chiseled straight out of poisonous vectors and treasonous vows, suffocating, smoldering, in his brutal ramparts and barbaric convictions. He’d yearned for the world to be intimidated by his prowess, by his potential, by all the things they knew he’d commit to – singular warnings before vanquishing acts, before demise, demise, demise sung its derisive spell through his blood and bone. He’d craved for the earth to fissure and fizzle beneath his steps, beneath his ministrations, beneath every footfall; a crack, a shudder, a quake, a league of terror and tyranny in the length of his stride, in the breath of his existence. Perhaps for a while it had worked, and his dissonance, his depravity, his detachment, had worked into his icy vestiges and incredulous forms, iniquity and immorality tied, knotted, and gnarled beneath his skin; so no one dared, so no one bothered, so no one could divide and conquer, so no one could scrape away the fortifications he’d so proudly crafted and created. You cannot have me in his unattainable, unreachable designs, in his warrior angles, in his demanding shades of abyss and gloom, damnation, oblivion, oblivion, oblivion. Little by little, those rivulets had faded, perhaps because of the people, perhaps because of the places, perhaps because after all that time, something was bound to erode – and he’d let a few in before shutting the doors. Before last breaths and last beats. Before resurgences and resurrections. Before the idle hands of time thought to occupy their hours by seeking out the Reaper once more.

Then, and now, it was different. It was confiding. It was allies and comrades. It was friends and loved ones. It was family. It was all the things he’d missed along the way.

But still, he remained quiet.

Demonic intervals continued to trace and align, powers that be in their devilish, Cheshire manifestations, too inherent, too inborn, too fluid, as vivid, as real, as tangible as the ice chiseled in their marrow. “I only know of Zariah’s capabilities.” He could always press Loren for more information on Neron, but even then, it might not be enough. They were limited here, beyond musings and circumstances, his fingers playing, toying, with the designs on the teacup – eyes narrowing, giving way to speculation and distortion all the more. He had no certainty in hospitable ranges – to be fair, they’d done as much as they could for the Basin’s calamities, but the notion of not being here for another LongNight was a striking motivation. “Perhaps we simply need to go.” To experience, to see, to view in all its glory, in all its decadence, in the things, in the world, they’d long since left behind.

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru The tea in her cup is nearly depleted when he speaks, and she drains the rest before setting it back on its saucer on the table between them. Tongue flicking out to catch the last lingering taste on her lips as she settles against the arm of the couch beneath her. There are plans and motions here, moving swift and dark like an ocean beneath ice. Convoluted, callous, intentional. An entire war waged in the silence amidst their words, the tick of a brow or the cut of a gaze that they engage with more than terms and expressions. "Tell me of them. I don't want to be caught unaware. If she gets in my way, I would prefer the advantage." The gleam of her gaze, the sharpness of her features, is telling. Vowing that if Zariah intends to target her family, Hotaru would rip her asunder. Torture, maiming, and murder alike do not disgust her. Her hands are free to be bloodied if it ensures her family's are not, that their safety is assured. "I intend to go soon, as soon as I have a suitably large amount of clothing and food to offer. I want to endear myself to the people as quickly as I can." A king is no king if the sea of people they rule over revolts, topples, tears asunder the monarchy. Something previous leaders had never understood, that Hotaru had vowed to do the opposite of from when she was no more than a child, ignored and unwanted in the kingdom she'd been born to.

Deimos

His tea had long since grown cold, remnants and dregs settled at the bottom of his cup while they plotted and exchanged information; wishing he had more to proffer in the wake of sanctities and destruction. He’d avoided Zariah for the most part, only gaining minimal knowledge when she’d approached him, spending a multitude of his time conforming directly to Reaper tendencies and disclosing nothing of himself. He’d joined the army, he’d strived to protect those who seethed and simmered beneath her thumb, and that was only to press their name or title into parchment, and he’d smoldered underneath too, instigating rebellion amongst them. But he’d also seen the remnants of actions through Rexanna, through Amalia, and several others who hadn’t gained favor with the Merciless. Undoubtedly, Hotaru would need strength, fortitude, and might, but to also be mindful of the other things, parameters, and contemplations surrounding the woman. “I am ignorant of all her magical abilities, but based on how she favored the Abandoned, it is likely she has quite a few.” A pause, furrowing his brow slightly in thought, machinations conspiring and whirling through memories and incidents. “Wessex once escaped her – claimed Zariah had some life drain and lightning abilities.” Powerful, potent, capable of wielding her strength in other areas. What truly irked him had been the other means and measures, and how they’d affected those around him. “She is not above manipulation, blackmail, or coercion. Many were threatened under her reign with imprisonment – and that was simply for not joining the militia.”

Like Jigano, for failing to sign his name over, leading to Amalia striving to take over the Loreseeker’s Guild in his absence, and then Zariah wielding her name like a beacon, intending to arrest the Shield to get at the Sage. Series and cycles, consequences and effects, positions of scattered remnants; glad to hear she’d departed, and now disappointed to learn of her continued existence.

His eyes reigned away from the drink in his mug, and back to her – catching the things unsaid, between endearments and people, if she deigned to rule again, if she deigned to spark and sizzle and rampage once more. “Come find me when you are ready.” Because he would assist as best he could.

i rule the stars, not the other way around

Hotaru Though there are many regrets the woman has, she can't help but add this last small thing to the weight on her shoulders. Wishing she had been there when Deimos had need of her, when she could have been of use during Zariah's reign. Spared them some of the pain, hastened her departure. Even just been there so that she had firsthand information instead of relying so strongly on Deimos for every little thing as she slowly gets her feet beneath her in this new land. Hums softly as he speaks of what few abilities he knows of, her own electricity sparking weakly along her fingers as she thinks. "If I can strengthen my lightning, I can subvert her attempts. It is a chaotic element, but easily redirected." How quickly she can do so is still unclear, but she intends to find out. "Luckily I'm not above it either," she says with a dark, twisting smile. Oh, she may hate this lass already, but it's nice to have a proper contender sometimes. Someone to strive harder and harder to take out, to take down, to quell beneath her heel. Arrogance is not something she seeks out, but confidence? Determination? Oh, Hotaru has both in spades. She may be weaker in comparison magically, but she has not crippled kingdoms with her good looks alone. And when Deimos offers himself, she smiles softly, uncrossing her legs in preparation to depart after a few more minutes of spending time together perhaps. "Of course." She would want nobody else by her side when she storms Halo. But for now, there is tea and a crackling fire, and she is happy to remain in Deimos' company until the tides turn. - FIN