Hurt so Good

D e i m o s

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

At the mention of enchantments over the earth, eldritch contortions beyond soil and loam, his eyes fell to the ground, pondering along its nature, the artifices, the pretenses, and everything else below the surface – entangling roots and nettling thorns. He recalled Remi’s potent, powerful distinction over its colossal force, movement and motion within underground paths and along Spire basements and halls, a precision in its clarity and poise, in its manipulation of the world they lived upon. “Helovia had a god that ruled over the earth.” He frowned, striving to compare anything else; but perhaps none of his Basin constituents had ever melded or molded their wares into its finery either. “Otherwise, I am only familiar with Remi’s abilities.” The lightest of smiles emerged, for the alchemist who continually lent his capabilities to any of them in need, before it maneuvered away again, cast off in barbs of concentration. Ludo wasn’t answering could’ve been the highlight of any of the Sword’s appeals; need only replace the herald’s name with any of the others. But he listened instead of snorting or handwaving the nuances away, recalling the way Ludo hadn’t answered Kiada either – whether or not it was due to disappointment (a twist, a turn, a clench to his jaw, if such a thing were the case), or this bizarre event of the deity’s disappearance. The uncertainty layered in his brows though, a tilt of his head as he regarded the bard; pondering why this would have raised Safrin’s ire. Maybe he wasn't following the lines clearly. “And this angered Safrin?” The need for knowledge, the request for more and more and more, or just a deeper path Jigano had angled himself within, the canopies dark, the vines distorting, contorting, well before he’d realized? It wouldn’t be a stretch either – yet, it seemed to be a strange anomaly to inspire wrath and contempt over. Not that he would know; introspection at best. His hands molded another target back together, less strung out and detached, more assembled to the weight of future endeavors, dragged alongside the others as he reached for another; the head entirely gone. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate