remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
An easygoing acceptance, the arch to his brow the only indication of surprise. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, considering Sunjata’s admitted understanding, background, and implementation of munitions along the same thresholds. He had half a notion to slide in some snide remark to Hotaru later, about how he could recruit, thank you very much, but his attention was otherwise occupied by the light shrugs, the clamor of before, before, before. This world was not Isilme, nor Helovia; equal in his depths and fathoms at expelling violence, vehemence, force, and anything layered, lacquered in between, political measures just as drawn as knives and swords. “I doubt many here have experienced much war.” The Naturals, at least; though past rumors and histories presided along wars amongst gods and their follies, it hadn’t occurred in a long time – pressed into barbarity and brutality for no reason seemed like too much of a stretch for those who’d only known the bubble, the towering Spire, and the demon once lingering along its depths. The closest any of them had seemed to snap, pre-tyrants, had been on the insinuation of what to do about the aforementioned monster, Outlanders following through with little regard. Those portaled in, like himself, like all the other Helovians, like those of Sunjata’s earth, had brandished their munitions, their weaponry, accustomed to the depths of ferocity and savagery, what it meant to lacerate, to maim, to incinerate. “Zariah’s methods did not help.” Because some immediately rebelled; defiant in the face of putting their name on a piece of paper, signing their lives away to barbarity. He’d placed his title there easily – as if it were nothing to occupy his stance in that existence again. Others bristled and snapped, pending arrests flickering over the haze. And it’d seemed so monumental then.
So they would have to be different: not a system of brutes, but protection, guards, stalwart tendencies instead of obvious, molten turbulence and disorder. “I figured we could at least build defenses.” Another drink, another swallow, his eyes cast upon the maps, pondering over steadfast qualities, rather than other things he could easily adorn. “For any incoming threat.” The insinuation of Zariah, or anything else, could lay there, taken apart or sizzled somewhere else.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
