remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Fluid; despite his size, his motions had always been fluid, practiced, skills inherent, fortified in each extension of his limb, in each ruthless endeavor, whether it be weapon or manifested incantations. It was one of the few artistic skills he possessed, despite Jigano’s arguments and contributions to the subject; the ability to paint the world in bloodshed, in ichor, in ruin, effortless, seamless, fine-tuned and layered across battlefield canvases and tapestries. It’d been held at bay here, where there were far fewer wars and far more diplomatic or pious efforts at work, where he tread lightly, carefully, ignorant to the majority of those entanglements. However, Sunjata’s insinuation over some other munition (by the sounds of it), left him wound into the unknown too. Curious, his eyes narrowed, nearly catlike in their inquisition, over the rumble of another target decimated. “What is a gun?” His familiarity with a multitude of means towards destruction could always utilize another fervor, another notch, something else to concoct, create, and then implement for either himself or the rest of the world he was meant to defend.The grin suddenly appearing behind Sunjata’s back, as he adjusted, as he took aim at another mark, was undoubtedly Cheshire, mischief unfurled, unraveled, as Hotaru’s name cropped up again. It sounded like digging, like asking, innocently, without airs, but Deimos wasn’t one to settle into such pretenses. He managed to stifle a rumble of laughter, choking it down when the other man’s eyes swept towards him again, and the entire folly was dropped – features reserved once more, pondering which part to play now. The reticent, nonchalant, apathetic Reaper? The chiseled apart Sword? To refrain from giving too much away, to meander and revel in the nuances of vengeance? The devilry in his gaze might’ve given himself over, had he not pinpointed it to the ripping of fabric, the stones breech upon the latest goal. “Yes.”
Yes, they were from the same world.
But he offered naught more – waiting for the strands to unravel, waiting for Sunjata to truly get to the heart of the matter, withholding because it endlessly amused him. He rarely had opportunities like this.
The beast staked his claim on the same target, loading more stones, and drawing the arm back. He calculated again, maneuvered it back some, tilting his head in the meticulous, scrupulous examination. Then the General released – but as the stones sailed through the air, he’d clearly maneuvered it one too many paces away, for they fell slightly short, skittering in front of the target, placing large dents into the ground. His own fault; the details not entirely etched in the earth. He snorted and rolled his eyes, maneuvering aside for Sunjata’s turn.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
