[seasonal event] wasted faith

Deimos the Reaper master of nothing place, of recoil and grace Finishing touches polished the top of his basket, aligned and courted with stars, like a flicker of auroras and the blending of skyline hues, otherworldly, ethereal, mystifying, coming from another time, another place, another world – the nostalgic webs pulsing and beating at his chest. He stared at them for a moment, considered changing, altering them altogether, lost in those wayward fogs and labyrinths of intertwined memories and lives, before leaving it entirely, pressing more mountains into the sides on the soft, gilded glow pulsating from his hands. He might not have even paid attention to anything else had Adam’s inquiry not hastened and clawed at him; a schism he’d opened up for himself. “No,” a shake of his head. They’d found other things: failure, death, desecration, ruin, defeat, collapse, a loss of homeland, a loss of comrades, a loss of greater, grander things than the labors of kings and beliefs of greedy sovereigns. Isilme’s results had simply continued in Helovia’s – the Edge no longer theirs within an instant, overwrought, overwhelmed, scattered from rocky shoals and endless cliffs, the barrel of the ocean stinging in their eyes, spun back into their hatred, their vehemence, their icy ramparts. Luckily for Adam though, Helovia had also brought about the notion of thieves, of information gathering, of stealing, of abductions, of sniping and grasping and tearing apart other monarchies and lands simply for their vengeance, for their spite. He didn’t judge the man at all for the previous occupations – and in fact, had once regarded upon his cloak and daggered friends fondly, trusting in their efforts and talents implicitly. Sneakier than him; for after a while his title had been enough to warn anyone of his presence well before his brooding, overbearing shadow loomed above them, they’d harpooned sagacity and whittled others out of anything and everything. The Basin would have been naught without their shades and ruses. “We had thieves too. Rexanna and Hotaru were some of our best,” if anything, the smile actually grew, and he was unaware of it, staring down at the basket and shifting other woven reeds and wood elsewhere. “We stole information or citizens. Sometimes for vengeance. Sometimes just to provoke another kingdom.” Like a game, except it involved people and places, except it had been marked in bloodshed and abominations, in abhorrence and contempt. “They always deserved it.” The trace of a smirk once more, revenge bristling in the avid irreverence.

_{image credits}