Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
Another gathering, but not amongst the temple, not amongst the fields, not in normal parameters or circumstances. The void, the abyss, clawed its way into his lungs and ribs, and he swallowed down the vexation, the frustration, the avid, torrential tempest brewing, welling, and churning – pushing it into the recesses of his mind. For later; moments not here, not laden in diplomacy and government (which was a another level of torment), and as he entered the designated house, Deimos was only a fixture of reticence and reserve, stoic, stone, carved from filaments of glaciers, the walls drawn over and over, fortifications he leaned upon now. He took a seat, as he clenched his jaw, as he stared at the floor, as he thought of hundreds of other tangents and variables spiraling out of control, the world tilted on its axis once more, and they were forced to simply carry on.
It wasn’t Rex’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But it still burned and buried and burrowed its way, and he released a long, inaudible sigh, listening, listening, listening.
Five positions – militia, and his head rose again at the sound of his name, naturals advisor, outlander advisor, healers, and a historical, scholarly intonation. Then she opened the floor, and he felt a bit like a fool, rising from his seat. Never well-practiced or well-versed in the notion of speaking, of proffering himself or his qualities – but wishing to keep his position, his role, something suitable, something fundamental, something he knew and understood right to his very core. “I would like to maintain my role as General.” A pause, piercing eyes flicking towards the Penumbra, and then everyone else assembled. “I have been a soldier a majority of my life, and have held this rank before, in another land.” Before crowns, before titles, before thrones; the rush of war pulsing and pervading, the slash of blades, the contortion of lacerations. Then, into the results of their already-begun distinction: no one drafted, no one consigned, but asked, recruited, by their own power and means. “Thus far, we have created a barracks and training grounds for anyone who strives to strengthen themselves. There is also an armory available for those who require weapons or munitions, and several defensive plans in the works.” To ensure safety, in case those like Zariah intended to push too far once more, or so that the level of tyranny she exercised couldn’t happen again. With that, the Sword felt finished, a nod given to Rexanna, his notations completed, short and succinct, concise, to the point. If anyone felt he wasn’t adequate in the role, then further discussions or displays could ensue.
It wasn’t Rex’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But it still burned and buried and burrowed its way, and he released a long, inaudible sigh, listening, listening, listening.
Five positions – militia, and his head rose again at the sound of his name, naturals advisor, outlander advisor, healers, and a historical, scholarly intonation. Then she opened the floor, and he felt a bit like a fool, rising from his seat. Never well-practiced or well-versed in the notion of speaking, of proffering himself or his qualities – but wishing to keep his position, his role, something suitable, something fundamental, something he knew and understood right to his very core. “I would like to maintain my role as General.” A pause, piercing eyes flicking towards the Penumbra, and then everyone else assembled. “I have been a soldier a majority of my life, and have held this rank before, in another land.” Before crowns, before titles, before thrones; the rush of war pulsing and pervading, the slash of blades, the contortion of lacerations. Then, into the results of their already-begun distinction: no one drafted, no one consigned, but asked, recruited, by their own power and means. “Thus far, we have created a barracks and training grounds for anyone who strives to strengthen themselves. There is also an armory available for those who require weapons or munitions, and several defensive plans in the works.” To ensure safety, in case those like Zariah intended to push too far once more, or so that the level of tyranny she exercised couldn’t happen again. With that, the Sword felt finished, a nod given to Rexanna, his notations completed, short and succinct, concise, to the point. If anyone felt he wasn’t adequate in the role, then further discussions or displays could ensue.
DEIMOS
