[PQ] Rock Steady

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

Ever the listener, a scholarly, but machinating technique, he applied himself with supports and wooden stabilizers, palms glowing as the beams manifested, unfolding, unfurling, uncoiling, to revel in prevention of collapse. Were it not for the portals, he might not have cared if the whole damn thing toppled down, for as much trouble, trials, and tribulations the Spire had caused them. They were the ones who kept returning though, as if it were a beacon, a siren song, for them to rally within or against; eyes narrowing briefly at plants as he meandered along them, somewhat bemused by the ones scorched, withered, or completely, utterly dead and withered. He didn’t miss the way Jigano’s incantations seemed to mold either; part of the earth, loam, and soil, holding onto those means and measures too. Then there were the other events spiraling from this particular ether: one more set of either disappointing or unsurprising ventures. Wessex attacking the bard (following through on other moments – like the battle with the Fae?), recalling the pulse of magic she had contained as well, having experienced it on the battlefield, meant to disorient, attack sanctions of the body. Perhaps that was who she was now – when seasons and cycles before, it’d been somewhat peaceful, more of a repose along Ascended quandaries. Now he didn’t know what was going on – after the blight, after the destruction of the Mathair, after the Wraith kept proving herself to be formidable, but cutting, slashing, a distinction between herself and her people. She’d apparently been over Jigano’s ministrations and tactics anyway, which the General could surmise as understandable at times, before the connection fizzled to attuned modes. The serpent’s death. His new shift, though no revelations haunted further on that subject. The Voice binding him, perhaps he was truly lucky it hadn’t been worse, and then Wessex with new gains, new onslaughts, new powers. A reward for murder? For her goddess? For the portals and options she’d discussed with Amalia? Or for something more? He’d been silent through the entire saga, absorbing, taking in all the information, uncertain where to even go from here. They had the portal – but at what cost? They had the mountains, but what would come after? Zariah had already meandered back into their playing field. And what was it going to spell out for the rest of them? So now what? He offered instead, a quiet inquiry, because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what they were about to face or where to go from there. -- Deimos creates some supports and wooden stabilizers. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate