remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Thiefdom in Helovia had several different connotations: not only great swindlers of individuals, but also of information. Based on their knowledge, the Basin had been able to successfully infiltrate and invade another kingdom; where long before they’d floundered, stumbled, fell apart at the seams. They’d been impressive, mighty, and overwhelming, towering above all others, for once, for once, for once, and he died remembering those portions over the notched seams of disaster and ruin. But Sunjata had eagerly taken the bait, asking on the length of time the woman had reigned – and Deimos lacked the accurate answer, merely because his demise negated the kind of information – and he’d never asked how much longer she’d maintained her position on the throne after his last breath. Perhaps it hadn’t mattered, not here, not now, when there were other things at stake, other infernos at play. So without saying too much more, elaborating at all, his eyes ghosted back to the other man, the slightest shrug undulating through his shoulders. “Long enough to make a difference.”Then there was their bizarre pattern of miss after miss, which grew a bit more frustrating, irritating; pondering if it was his construction of the machine leaving it amiss. They couldn’t have it be so unreliable if it was going to amount to any worth for any future endeavors. He watched with scrupulous, examining attention as Sunjata followed through on the same movements and motions as before, shifting, pulling the arm back, the rocks soaring, bounding, and then going beyond the target. Any remnants of laughter died off into a frown, because now it was brewing into something more than ridiculous.
But he wasn’t about to give in – stubborn, obstinate, and tenacious, the range of defiance and sedition stirred and instigated along his blood, marching forward to inspect the catapult all over again. The Sword tinkered back and forth, hands running through the hinges once more, maneuvering portions to smooth out the arm’s forceful device; before trying, one last effort. The stones were reloaded, smaller portions left over from their earlier skirmishes, and he breathed, the irreverent sigh running through the ethers, the vestiges, of layered, lacquered ire. Eyes narrowed, he pulled back the arm, and watched as success finally reared its head again – the pebbles conforming to a precise mass, decimating the core of the target, until the top half doubled over the remains of the bottom, sunken and stripped. “There.” He patted the catapult, and then stepped away, leaving it alone after they’d finally managed to have a favorable outcome.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
