DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
Inquiring about Kiada’s status wasn’t a surprise; he seemed to be the messenger between the pair, though more to Rexanna’s benefit than the Harpy’s, who likely would’ve seethed and growled at him for bothering to keep her mother up to date on the latest debacles. A sigh filtered its way through his lungs; Kiada hadn’t fared well during LongNight either, though she hadn’t been brutally scarred, impaled, or missing her eyes; her more of the inward damage, a soul-rendering, crushing blow, and he wasn’t certain whether which was quicker to recover from. “She did.” It truly wasn’t his tale to tell, but the girl wouldn’t have relented to the Penumbra anyway. “She went out to try and retrieve Ru’in’s soul, with Jigano. They were not successful.” The statement seemed incredibly final and lacking; but Rexanna would know, would understand the pain, the torment, the anguish, of things falling apart, of crumbling, of loved ones still existing beyond and away and elsewhere, without the means of getting to them ever again. He didn’t say how Kiada had fallen apart. He didn’t say how she would likely dare to complete the same actions again – when she was stronger, when she was mightier, when she was better prepared, hardened, scraping against the earth and granules and ghosts. The General permitted the notions to rest there, presuming further and further inquiries would barrel onward, his eyes pinpointed on the floor, then on the walls, on tapestries, on bright, illustrious hues he hadn’t seen in a long time.
