black roses
Deimos!
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#1
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
Upon leaving Phoebe’s the first time, he figures out who best it would be to make the rings. Initially he thinks of Deimos, how the man had crafted that gorgeous ebony bow for him after helping with the training grounds, surely he could help with rings at some sort of cost, right? He shifts into bird form, blue feathers taking him closer to the man’s home after attaining some directions, and when he reaches it he pauses at the edge of the property.

He doesn’t know anything about what’s happened elsewhere — other than Remi and Ronin are missing, Aoife is dead, and now he has this pit in his stomach at this situation he finds himself within. He wonders if it’s worth it to bother the man.

But he does anyway, approaching with hands shoved into his pockets, horns settled within the waves of his hair, trudging closer. “Deimos?” He calls out, trying to find the man and hope he’s not imposing, not bothering the Sword, his General.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#2
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Sullen, morose, straight back into melancholy – the brief intervals of happiness railroaded, forgotten, by the trembling nuances of his hands, his breaths, a shudder in the periphery. He spent a majority of the morning along the inward contortions of the house, wood in his hands, shaping and refining ramps alongside the stairs, for when, for when –

His teeth clenched and mouth snapped shut upon the infernal scream he wanted to unfurl and unleash, consuming it down into his chest, burrowed and buried behind ashes, cinders, and the devouring unknown. There was half an instant where he thought about curling into a corner and simply forgoing everything, or drinking himself into nothingness, but Zuriel’s lingering movements around his form ensured he’d be doing no such thing – as much a guardian as a pest.

Eventually the Sword roamed out back, constructing much the same, the porch ramped off, the sound of the hammer in his hands ricocheting, the feeling of its weight smashing into nails somewhat satisfying (but not enough; the anthem, the theme, the staccato bridge of his life currently). Maybe no one would see him shatter out here. Maybe no one would come by. Maybe everyone would stay away and just let him brood, sulk, and quietly fall apart. Zuriel snorted and he hung his head.

Sweat clinging to his brow, muscles not worn but warmed, he picked up his stack of timber and maneuvered out front, only for Zuriel’s ears to prick, the call of his name blasting from entryways and apertures. He narrowed his eyes and advanced, arms and hands full, something threatening and overwhelming in his gut, afraid, uncertain, apprehensive that something else had occurred, and he wasn’t sure he could take much more. He maneuvered, swift and keen, long limbs taking colossal strides until he was there, an unattainable, sharpened presence, ready to fight, ready to surge, ready to collapse – advancing upon the familiar form, quietly dropping the timber at his feet, where he’d start on another ramp beside the steps. “Sunjata,” a rumble in the chest of the General, and then almost uncertain what to ask, what to face, his piercing eyes (ghosts, specters, and wraiths on their fringes, the dread clambering across their surface). His gaze traced over horns, arching a brow. “Something you need?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#3
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
Perhaps his own issues have blinded him to what happened to everyone else. He knew nothing of Amalia, what occurred, nothing of the temple that remains in ruins, nothing about more that had nearly died and yet didn’t — because he’d spiraled into his own storm of chaos, of poor decisions, missed judgements. So when Deimos rounds the corners with the ramp in hand, in pieces to be put on, he feels like a dick asking this of him.

He offers a small nod to the other man, and when the question arises, he inhales a crackly deep breath — as deep as he can before falling into a fit of coughing — steel eyes scanning the porch. “I’m looking for someone to make wedding rings, actually. I heard you were the popular one to go to.” There’s a hint of defeat in his voice, shoulders drawn despite his stature. He doesn’t know about Deimos’ own engagement, knows nothing really of the man. Perhaps he’d offer to help with the ramp had he not had doctors orders to stay in bed — one he already is breaking by being out so much. And perhaps that is why his breath is shorter than before, crackling deeper the further he remains out.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#4
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He bent down, hammer in hand, waiting for the reason and ruminations, centering and squaring off some portions of the ramp, wooden lip down to the ground, kneeling and machinating, a curl of calculations whirling off in his head, keeping him busy, moving forward, onward, while everything else churned and burned in the pit of his stomach. The beast waited in the midst of silence for an answer, crackling breaths emitted from the other man causing the slightest hint of curiosity, a minute motion of his brows, before his eyes glanced back to the timber, shaping, pounding.

The expectation of disaster, ruin, something else boiling and brimming over the surface of their lives, hadn’t anticipated the words to come out of Sunjata’s mouth. Facing the gradient and incline, he had half a moment of his gaze widening, before his heart stammered and shunted; a grinding glimpse of worlds quickly falling apart. He hadn’t told anyone of his own engagement – they’d only had a scarce few hours of contentment and happiness before broken temples and severed spines – his jaw clenched on the thoughts barreling on the fringes of his teeth, like he wanted to bite down on flesh and sinew and bone; ferocious and entangled, sickened and despaired. “Wedding rings,” he nodded, trying to gain some clarity, some insight, some modicum of shock and upheaval away from his chest, rising from his construction to stare over his shoulder at the horns, at the man, sinking into the request. He didn't even bother snorting or chuckling over the notion that he would be the one to see about the necessity of rings and circlets; twice assisting in creation of cases for protection over sacred things. The Sword and Shield's ceremonial bands, careful, precise, beautiful, and ornate, laid inside the house, furtive and secret, in boxes of stars and galaxies - untouched and undisturbed.

The General hadn’t heard of any recent nuptial plans (save for their own – and those had been stifled almost as quickly as they’d begun), but his wanderings hadn’t taken him by board notices, consumed with other, harsher, blinding, binding things. Hadn’t Sunjata and Hotaru been a not-so-subtle thing? Wouldn’t she have told him? Was it even for Sunjata and someone else, or had he been sent out on commission, the only one brave or stupid enough to come find him now? Ignorance bound both, and he removed his gloves from his hands, placed them on the grass for later. “For who?” A dangerous tread they lingered upon, where there was some fissuring, cracking aspect down below his feet, ready to swallow and consume him whole at any moment (and he might just let it).
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#5
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
He repeats the request and Sunjata sighs a crackly sound before he nods, jaw clenching with it. It wasn’t a merry occasion, he’d have never wanted to have this conversation, have this thought. And yet, here he is, full of resentment, full of spite burning and churning in his gut until all he can see are the dark edges of the way his life is to be spent. He wonders if his father is laughing at it, a world far away. He wonders if Lusea, given the chance, would smite him on the spot.

He’s such an idiot.

He nearly grimaces when Deimos turns to look at him, to ask who it was for — knowing the general had known, had commented with wry looks about Hotaru and him. Perhaps that makes it worse, after his previous conversations with Hotaru. Regardless, he shakes his head, the sound that leaves him is low and akin to frustrated. “Phoebe, the midwife. So, something pink with flowers probably so Frey doesn’t smite me would be deeply appreciated.” He tries to jest, but results in running a hand through his hair, snagging on a horn.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#6
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The midwife. Not Hotaru – not after banters and flirtations, the assurances in the lightning queen’s eyes. He repeated the refrain over and over again in his mind, not quite understanding, contemplating, or even corresponding to the aforementioned name. Phoebe? Last time he’d even glimpsed upon her might have been with Roana’s triplets, tripping and scattering along the muck and murk rampaging down village routes and streets. He knew very little of her, save for the time he nearly died in the caverns, when she’d summoned gods and he’d nearly been skewered and murdered by whatever thing lived in the walls, which was seemingly a theme in the current stature. Completely ignorant and unware of their tumultuous relationship, of the capricious, mercurial ups and downs, Deimos’s features didn’t display the bewildered sentiments, but they lingered underneath. A tilt to his head, and a nod, shaking his cranium, listening to the way the words sounded frustrated.

For a wedding – signaling something else, unsaid motivations that might not have been for devotion and benedictions. But he said naught, striving to sizzle away the forlorn nuances clinging to his soul. Deimos had yet to make anything with the mentioned description, but he sighed, furrowed his brows in concentration, brought his hands up to their familiar glow. Between his palms, the outlines of the circlet began to form, golden bands, argent lines segmented and drawn like stems, and if tilted at the right angle, perhaps adorned with thorns), rising and leading up to the stone, sitting like an ornamental rose; pink-hued per the request. Portions were interwoven, open, and still ornate; uncertain of Frey’s antics but knowing enough not to want to be privy to a god’s curse. “Is this suitable?” The Sword extended it along his fingers, the box following: pastel blended with coral leaves, fronds, and petals, like a blush, passing it forward for inspection. Thereafter, if it passed, he uttered the only other intonation and inquiry passing through the moment. “And yours?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#7
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
If his lungs already didn’t make him feel like he was drowning, watching as Deimos hears the news and begins to craft certainly would add it in. It’s like rubbing salt into a wound, over and over again, thinking little of the grimaces and how uncomfortable it is. This entirely ordeal is awkward, and if he’d been given a choice — well, Hotaru would have been it. Hell, Lily could’ve been it. But here they were, here he is, shackles and all waiting for the plunge, for the darkness to seep in and take him.

Deimos asks if it’s suitable, and Sunjata nods, grasping for the ring and inspecting it based off the craftsmanship. It’s incredibly well done, and had it been for anyone else, anyone other — the praise would be unable to leave his lips. But instead, all he can do is nod, lip curling slightly as he tucks it back into the box. “Perfect.” He says, almost flatly, feeling the nails begin to get hammered into his coffin.

For him, however? Well, if he’s going to be married, he’s getting out of it with something subtle and flashy, something him. He doesn’t care if they don’t fit together. “Black and blues perhaps?” He suggests, wondering if claw marks or waves would be better suited. “Waves?” For water to sweep him away and drown him in an unmarked, watery grave.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#8
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Curiosity and inquisitions aside, Deimos, perhaps wisely, said naught at all. His experience with weddings hadn’t been shackles, tethers, chains, and lines; Helovia’s political machinations had been more hellbent towards trades, ruses, schemes, and alliances until they fell apart, Isilme’s hastened along the same lines. Their worlds had collided in streamlines of war and invasions, in hatred and vitriol, in torn apart commitments and unleashed ferocities. Here though, the world blurred, until even the former Reaper found someone. Sunjata’s seemingly endless options had segmented and landed upon the midwife? There were unsaid things entangled and embedded there – and if his eyes narrowed or arched suspiciously, he gave nothing else away at his notions, at his ruminations. If anything, the enigma and mystery served to distract him from the other horrors carving him apart.

Perfect on a flat affect, as if it either didn’t matter or he didn’t care. Strange. Bizarre. A series of circumstances and events he couldn’t navigate, couldn’t fathom.

But Sunjata’s request was next, and so he busied himself in the burrowing of concoctions and enchantments again – kindling, invoking, and stoking almost a juxtaposition of previous incantations. Rivulets adorned and conformed, blackened, nearly Stygian band unfurling from the midst of gilded billows; sketched waves and undulations rampaging along the side, subtle navy hues blending firmly into the sable, onyx circlet. Eventually they all led to the blue stone (like an ocean; Deimos could recall those conversations at the very least), so the ring managed to convey a tempest, a storm. The box did the same, brutality and barbarity on its edges and fringes, holding back the clamor, the power, the siege. They were all passed to the other man again, eyes glancing to see if these too met approval.
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#9
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
It’s true, he could absolutely care less what the ring looks like other than it being somewhat pretty, somewhat nice so Frey can at least approve of that. At least there was some effort other than the string he would’ve brought, a twine of sorts. But no, the ring given is beautiful and lovely, and had it been for anyone else he would have been joyous, finding a million ways to pay him back for that small amount alone.

But he isn’t. And he won’t. Not until his, however.

And when Deimos proffers the finished ring, Sunjata’s short breath hitches as he observes it, the ocean effect, the blues and blacks. A smile graces his lips at this — that even if he has to be shackled, at least he wouldn’t mind wearing this. He takes it then, steel eyes lifting to Deimos with that same smile. “This is the best of it.” He offers, accented, a light glimmering and growing in his gaze. He dips his head then, gaze landing on the brutality of the box it sits within. “Thank you.” He offers, quietly.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#10
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Another offhand comment as the ring was taken, regarded far more differently than the previous – rosy hues and pinkish blends deemed suitable, but lacking somehow – the mercurial, capricious, stormy layers adjusted for his own more accepted, more gratified. Deimos’ eyes narrowed in suspicion once more, the inquiry stuck behind his teeth. He nodded, his role somewhat completed. “You are welcome,” funneled and contorted instead, shifting back to the ground to pick up his gloves, to adjust to kneeling once more, the hammer already back in his hands, eyes already noting some portion where he’d need to make adjustments, studying the slant, the ascent, the angles. “When is the ceremony?” Expecting it to be soon, if the rings were so necessary, pondering if these plans were scattered or ruptured, or if he’d just missed notices, the layers of time warped and frayed in the last few days. The how, the why, the when stopped short in his mind; if Sunjata was willing to share any of it, the beast was willing to listen – but otherwise left it open.
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#11
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
He wants to sit there and ask Deimos what he can do for him – but between the doctor’s notes of bed rest and the like, he finds his usefulness immensely dimmed. And he hates it – hates being so useless and stuck, waiting and watching while the world spins by. Instead, he focuses on Deimos as he lifts the gloves to slip them back on – he might at least be able to help hold the boards into place… But before he can ask, Deimos asks when the ceremony is, and his jaw clenches.

Three days from now.” He admits, shaking his horned head, inhaling a crackling deep breath. “Can I help you with anything?” He asks, moving to stand along the side and watches as the man figures out where he could adjust angles and slopes, wondering what it was even for. How much else had he missed, too tangled in the drama of his own life? “Adding ramps?” He suggests, brow lifting quietly watching.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#12
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Shifting boards and ensuring angles were correct, he nearly missed the answer to his inquiry – only a sharpened snap of his head, a twist and turn back over his shoulder, to indicate his shock, his surprise. Three days. A rush? And for what reason? Between the frenzied, hasty, swift chaotic march towards marriage, and the crackling, inhaled breaths, Deimos thought the man was either falling apart or losing some vast amount of control over his life. “Are you all right?”

As far as assistance, the Sword eyed the timber, the lip slightly off the ground, shuffling over to make space for Sunjata if he wished. His hands went underneath the contortions once more, snagging at a few rocks that had causing the lift. The question hovered there, and he uttered his own shuddering sigh, though it didn’t crackle or drown; just burdened with anguish and the unknown. “Yes,” at first the only thing he could surmise, pondering if he should even bother. But the whole world would know eventually, especially with Jigano and Amun involved. “There was an incident at the Temple,” and even now he didn’t have all the details, where to segment or place blame, where he could pummel or destroy – if anything, anyone, at all. It would make life easier – but wouldn’t make the end results facile or simple. “Amalia lost the use of her legs.” A wince, staring back at the ramps, shoulder sinking slightly, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. “So I figured if I could create a wheelchair, and add some ramps, she could still maintain her independence.” Until time managed to settle, heal wounds, or something else bit and tore at them. Another feral sigh, and he shook his head. “If you want, can you hold this piece down?” His hammer at the ready again, hoping to honor decent construction and fortitude.
Unite and spread the heart apart
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 8,340 | Total: 13,495
MP: 2712
#13
now take what i offer, straight up the nose, down the throat
it's a bearable bruise on your conscious
Deimos would be right to think that he’s losing control of his life. He is, he’s watching from the sidelines as it spirals out of control, as it breaks and shreds apart into a semblance of nothing — where once the Flood may have been strong, may have been powerful too, a soldier… He can already see that fragile child returning, and he hates it — hates that part of him and wishes he could tear from his heart, from his soul. But the question? Is he alright? No. No, he’s not alright in the slightest.

Stuffing the boxes into his pocket, he watches as Deimos’ head pivots back to him and he sighs a rasping sound. “I’m okay.” He offers the General, a muscle feathering in his jaw. He takes the space that Deimos offers him, listening to the horrors that happened outside of his own centered chaos, and sighs quietly. An incident. But as Deimos tells him Amalia was paralyzed, it’s his turn to twist his horned head to the general, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry.” He offers, unsure what else to say.

He’d never met the Shield.

Sure.” He says, moving and lowering himself to the ground as well, pressing hands into the wood to hold it in place so Deimos could start to put together the ramps. “I’ve never met her but I’ve heard a lot about her.” He rumbles thoughtfully. “Safrin made me one of her Attuned. Everyone keeps telling me I should meet Amalia.” He rumbles, gaze lifting to Deimos. “If you need anything to help or a buddy to spar with, just ask.” It would go against the doctors orders, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s just learned about this.
but don't it feel good? don't you feel calmer?
i am the way and the life in the best looking truth
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#14
DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Control had always been one of his soulless talents: how long could he stand composed while the world fell apart, how long could he adhere to no emotion, to no semblance of grief, of anguish, of despair, how long could he listen to those that mocked and jeered, how little could he emote in the face of treachery, deceit, or calculations. It served him well, sometimes as nothing more than a pretense, a shuffle of features so they appeared so callously reserved one believed he was statue and stone. Then Caido picked and tore it apart, little by little, with the distortions, the cracks, the fissures, the acceptance, the tolerance of who he was or could be – and he had to find new ways to brandish it, to harness it, to unleash it. Calm, stoic waves as he turned towards storms, not sinking into ghosts and phantoms when they neared, tracing over foundations and enamels with new understandings, new comprehension, of where he might be lingering.

Did Sunjata have any of that now? He could see the lie written in his jaw, in the sigh, but couldn’t do anything for him. There were choices laden, borne, into the soil and earth, into the indiscrete parameters, choking, smothering, suffocating, and perhaps the other man was determined to anchor himself in that threshold until he drowned.

Instead of anything else murmured, collected, or explained, there were apologies, movements to adhere towards ramps, maledictions no one had foretold or seen coming. A careful nod orchestrated along his head, and then he took up the hammer again, nails slammed into place, securing, endeavoring, intending to prosper something out of the shambles, out of the wreckage. The smallest of smiles curled along his mouth, a glance from the corner of his eye as he adjusted some portions of the timber and began to start once more. “Then you probably should,” fondness for the Shield and her convictions, her faith, her credence, even if he didn’t share them as wholeheartedly. “She would be happy to tell you anything about the goddess.” At the offer of a spar, the smile drifted downward, uncertain of where his calamities should’ve been resting. He’d been occupying a majority of his time by purposefully distracting himself: unfurling the inclines and slopes around town, around the house, hunting, wandering aimlessly, perhaps more adrift than he’d been before. “Thank you. I will let you know.”
Unite and spread the heart apart


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