Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
His taciturn nature served him well at this juncture; Kiada’s reluctance, petulant whining, to give in evident, but didn’t alter the Sword’s mind. This one was kept close to the chest, locked and held, until some specific day or moment. The beast didn’t even snort at her contrarian efforts; allow her to either speculate or cast it aside, and he was intending for the latter, brows lifting slightly before notching into the other information passing within their midst.
Wessex and seeking out dragons – an intriguing concept, and it made sense given the Ascended’s predilection for not feeling the cold, and her ability to disappear at a moment’s notice. A lighter note settled into his throat, less grumbling, more of a rumbling, amused tone, content for the moment to preside in musing speculations, rather than settling into any other concerning folds. “What are you seeking out dragons for?” Hoards of treasure? Intrigue? Curiosity? Because one could, and they were legendary things most beings scrambled towards, enamored, bewildered, or strung along by the notions of power?
He made note of Harper being amusing, but said naught more either – letting that drift off into either oblivion or some intertwining nature, keeping close tabs on how many times the man’s name was brought up or if she feigned disinterest. Kiada had already had a string of bad luck with most relationships – Deimos wisely refused to bring up Ru’in – and instead, furrowed his brows for a moment, pondering over intervals lost in the past seasons. It might’ve been an abrupt, swift, change in subject, but it’d lingered and pressed over his mind in those hours where he was otherwise unoccupied. “Did you lose your armor in the fire?” Many of the munitions he’d created and contorted for LongNight occupants in the guild had been utterly destroyed; swept away when monsters breathed mayhem, menace, and he’d been forced to ensure its demise. The Sword’s eyes had been downcast, roaming along the table, before flicking the piercing gaze back to her, waiting for the answer.
Wessex and seeking out dragons – an intriguing concept, and it made sense given the Ascended’s predilection for not feeling the cold, and her ability to disappear at a moment’s notice. A lighter note settled into his throat, less grumbling, more of a rumbling, amused tone, content for the moment to preside in musing speculations, rather than settling into any other concerning folds. “What are you seeking out dragons for?” Hoards of treasure? Intrigue? Curiosity? Because one could, and they were legendary things most beings scrambled towards, enamored, bewildered, or strung along by the notions of power?
He made note of Harper being amusing, but said naught more either – letting that drift off into either oblivion or some intertwining nature, keeping close tabs on how many times the man’s name was brought up or if she feigned disinterest. Kiada had already had a string of bad luck with most relationships – Deimos wisely refused to bring up Ru’in – and instead, furrowed his brows for a moment, pondering over intervals lost in the past seasons. It might’ve been an abrupt, swift, change in subject, but it’d lingered and pressed over his mind in those hours where he was otherwise unoccupied. “Did you lose your armor in the fire?” Many of the munitions he’d created and contorted for LongNight occupants in the guild had been utterly destroyed; swept away when monsters breathed mayhem, menace, and he’d been forced to ensure its demise. The Sword’s eyes had been downcast, roaming along the table, before flicking the piercing gaze back to her, waiting for the answer.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
