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**Deimos** · 12-01-2019, 10:41 PM

D e i m o s

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

Perhaps Jigano was in luck. The General was in fact within the barracks, applying himself along the afternoon vestiges with stocking the armory and placing heavier objects on mantles, hammer and nail hard at work before maneuvering along the front room again, going back over the maps he’d designed. They were similar to the ones once concocted for Wessex’s house, he suspected they were still tucked away in the main hall now, hopefully given some use by someone. His now adorned the wall closest to the massive table, one of the Hollowed Grounds, and some sketched out in his head – purposefully not put in place yet.

He hadn’t expected anyone – despite their quick, steady assistance in ensuring the barracks were up and running, there were still only a few militia members, and he would soon have to face the reality of recruiting if they were going to get anywhere. Instead, he’d quietly worked along the silence, embedded into the quiet, entertaining his mind with application of creation magic or making a list of other plans he had in place, when a knock came upon the door. His head lifted from the table, pencil placed down on the surface, an arch to his brow as the voice came across again – familiar and distinct – Jigano.

The inquiries were immediately laden along his skull, calculations rolling, sparking, inciting, pondering if there was any recent messes requiring his attention (he didn’t want to mention the latest forum; wondering if everything would just flicker by the wayside again), or other twists and turns in pursuit. One never knew with the bard. His suspicions grew, loomed, brewed along his calculations, and he strived to meld them down, down, down until he knew what was going on. He pushed away from the table, rising from his chair, and crossed over to the door with a steady, diligent march. “Jigano,” uttered as he opened the threshold, head bobbed, a nod in greeting and acknowledgement, maneuvering the aperture so the Loreseeker might step within if he wished. “What brings you here?”

For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate