[seasonal event] dust and decay
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,186
MP:
#1
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

There were ghosts here in broad daylight.

He could feel the unearthly tremor, the shuddering expanses, the way last breaths were taken, and hearts extinguished in the next. He could remember the wake of terror unbidden through his chest, the overwhelming apprehension brimming, brewing, brooding over the hours of entertainment and diversions; lost for eternity. He could detail the finer moments of wraiths and the way they might have danced moments before, triumphant and gleeful, and now haunted, juxta-positioned with oblivion, with chaos, with upheaval.

The Sword had come back once or twice in the intertwining days, to assist however possible, to bring his catapult back to the barracks where he’d left it abandoned, by the hollows and husks of stalls and kiosks, by the torn perimeters where they’d thought to dance. The traces and foundations scratched and wore at his surface, and for a few moments he couldn’t fathom looking out over the earth again, where children had been vanquished and friends had sputtered, stabbed, or been lacerated, where crestfallen, anguished beings had fled to mar and bludgeon temples.

It was only the latter that maneuvered him onward, a jar in hand, towards silt and loam, towards fertile grounds despite all the punctures and pieces torn from them, despite the blood and the anguish melded, molded, into their schisms. Catalysts by default now: orchestrations of what could have been and fringes, echoes, of their failed moments. He kept to the outskirts, to the shadows, to the beat of the sun, avoiding everything but a hastened breath and a lasting, withering gaze – casting it along the boundaries, before kneeling, descending towards the ground, a tiny shovel in his palm too, intending to dig into the earth.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
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Posts: 759
MP:
#2


















Going to the fields after the horrors of Fiat Lux, which he had seen (and felt) firsthand....Adam was not at all thrilled about the prospect. When he closed his eyes he could still see terrified children and bloodied parents, remember dragging away little hands from touching broken skin - he'd found there really wasn't enough booze in the world, this or his last, to erase those kinds of memories.

The only reason he came at all was because Deimos asked him, and added the magic words: For Amalia. Perhaps the lone thing that would convince him, helping his best friend, whom was laying so broken and despairing on a bed in the infirmary; it felt more solid of a thing to do for her than telling stories and playing games. So he had agreed to come, however reluctantly.

Coffee following along at his heels, he walked towards Deimos, looking rather less chipper than usual. Coming across the man digging in the fields (with a comically tiny shovel - would have made him laugh, if they were not where they were) he knelt down next to him and watched for a moment with his lips pulled to the side, frowning. "...What are you doing?"

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#3
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos never quite knew what to expect, or how to react, towards Adam. So while the raw rancor clenched and distorted around them, he half-presumed the other man would have something to break apart the distortions and upheaval; all he received was a question in turn. It was a fair one, as he lifted and sifted the dirt within a jar, sealing off the soil in relative silence, not glancing towards the husks and shells of kiosks, left to wither, rot, and decay in their own way. The inquiry had been basically the same as everyone else: pondering what on earth the Sword was doing, out of character, out of routine, out of the normal range of his movements and motions. Perhaps he should’ve carried a sign, pre-disposed to explaining the hows and whys, or if a shrug and a for Amalia would cover it all, would hasten some understanding into collecting leaves and an assortment of other things. “Safrin required fertile soil.” He stood from his kneeling position, lifting the bag to carefully place the jar and shovel within, amongst the other brandished, anointed objects and artifacts. He was closing in though; and that in itself was some assemblage of relief.

His eyes shifted briefly to Adam again. “I also need a bone.” Careful in his next glance, because it wasn’t towards the fields themselves – as damaged, as bloodied, as disturbing as they were, he wouldn’t be plucking anything from makeshift graves and rampaged catacombs, the General turned towards the tree-line, the wall of places and earth where some animals might have been just as afflicted as the rest of them.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#4


















Deimos' explanation did cover it, Adam supposed, but he couldn't help but wish the man would elaborate a bit more, mostly so there wouldn't be the awkward pause afterwards where he tried to work out if he was done talking. Assuming he was, Adam looked about the fields, chewing on his lip. "Right...so you know this is uh...fertile enough?" Not being at all agriculturally talented, he really didn't know how you'd tell.

If Deimos just needed some soil, Adam wondered what it was he was here for - emotional support? It was only when the second set of words came that he understood, though swiftly grew alarmed, looking in the direction of the mudslide, where there were surely still bodies trapped under the deluge.

"Uuuuhhhhh...." He turned to Deimos, the obvious question on his lips, then turned to face where the man's gaze led - the treeline. Oh. Okay. "...Does it need to be fresh, or can we go looking for something already dead? And..."

Turning back to Deimos he asked something that felt foolishly optimistic, but he couldn't help it given the recipe: "Is this going to give Amalia her legs back?"

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#5
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

A shrug to his shoulders at the first inquiry, only knowing of its potential from earlier sojourns and ventures. “We did some farming here earlier in the year. It should suffice.” Placed irrigation routes and deviated water, attempted sourcing and inclining rivulets to feed the seeds tucked into the earth: the crops a short way off, striving to survive the summer heat. If this soil and loam wasn’t enough, perhaps there were some other places amongst the grounds where he could search – like Amalia’s garden – but he’d figured he could collect the other fragment here too, alleviating some of the wandering and further, mounting pressure.

Continuing his walk towards the outskirts of timber, tall, broad, and a living, breathing ruin, he glanced over his shoulder, taking in Adam’s view, the way his gaze had settled on the marked, battered world before him. “Safrin did not specify.” Which meant it was open to interpretation, and he’d rather dig into the earth for something old, ancient, decrepit, and truly gone, than risk the multitudes, the masses, of fresh catacombs and wraiths before them. “I would rather find something already deceased.” Maybe an old kill of some other predator, buried into leaf litter or forgotten, picked apart, its use long lost to hunters and gatherers – now only left for them to find and relegate to a goddess. At the final inquiry, his gaze went back to the trees, to the ground, to anything bleached and long since gone; a sigh piercing, penetrating there, nearly inaudible, soundless, like everything else he conjured. “That is the plan.”

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#6


















Deimos didn't really seem like the farming type, but Adam didn't inquire any further; it wasn't really the right mood for jokes about straw hats. He was satisfied that the soil was fertile enough from his answer, which was all that was really needed.

Safrin did not specify. "Well...I don't think she'd like bones from there, still. It's kinda....dark." Adam made a face, hoping he was right about the Goddess. He'd heard of human sacrifices for some Gods in his own world, but no so far in Caido, and he hoped it'd stay that way. Beginning to walk to the woods, wondering if something as small as a rodent bone would do, he smiled when he heard this was indeed intended to help Amalia.

"And...I got a question for you actually, to do with that." He gave Deimos a sideways look. "You're still gonna marry her regardless, right? I promised her if you broke up with her after this I'd beat you up. And I'm pretty sure you'd turn me into a pulp in five seconds, but I'd still do it for her honour." He punched his hand as if to punctuate this point.

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#7
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

He hadn’t been much of a farmer, and it’d been clear as day the multiple times he simply tried to navigate and create a damned irrigation route – but it was over and done with, accomplished eventually.

The Sword shook his head, a modicum of agreement – hence why the General was traversing away from the outlines of the fields, where disaster had reigned and pummeled, where the haunting decibels of music shifting into eerie shock, silence, and then disarray would forever be kindled in nightmares: realities too poignant and clawing. “Maybe a bird, or a rodent then.” He shrugged; not remotely bothered by the aspect of some ancient, decrepit prey being utilized for their efforts, wandering into the fold of the woods, the sheen of shadows, brushing aside soil and leaf litter with his foot.

Deimos hadn’t expected anything else, used to others drawing back into silence around him, committed to the hushed vestiges. Certainly not the question harpooned in his wake – so much so that he froze, remaining completely taut and rigid in the midst of the tree line, staring at the ground while the inquiry pummeled towards him. “Yes,” followed without hesitation, without pause, but everything else thereafter was pieced together in a spiraling formation. Where was this coming from? Had he ever given any indication that he’d thought otherwise, that he sought out to sever their connections and accord? That he’d just abandon her, because she’d been hurt? Because it would take time to heal? Was that how others saw him? He didn’t know whether to be offended or devastated, and the mask of reticence and reserve slipped, eyes widening, features fixed in a way that maybe he’d been struck by a massive blow, that he was some destined casualty on the frontlines. Hurt. It hurt; down in the ramparts of his chest, in the suddenly scalding juncture of his rib cage. He didn’t even bother listening to the threats and warnings, nor returning to his look of nonchalance, as his piercing stare fixed directly upon Adam. “Where is this coming from? Did she say something?” Another wound he’d bear – because he thought she understood who and what he was.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#8


















"Bird or rodent, okay." Experimentally, Adam stuck a forked snake's tongue out of his mouth then nodded as if confirming to himself some feature of it. "When we get into the woods I can probably find some pretty quick."

Though it seemed before they could hunt, what he'd said as a half-casual question, sure of the answer, apparently had hit a nerve. Surprised he stood still, feeling guilty even though it hadn't been his concern originally. Adam tried to speak gently as he answered, thinking carefully about the words he chose. "Well, mate, I think she was just kinda upset after it had all happened, y'know, but she did worry you weren't gonna right after. I told her it was bullshit and you still would, cos I can tell you're a decent sort." And he could, even if he didn't think Deimos was very 'fun' - he had never doubted the man would still marry Amalia, had only checked because he wanted to be able to tell her he had.

"I think when people get hurt sometimes they can think of all the worst things that'll happen, right? I think she was just doing that." He had plenty of experience there himself.

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#9
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The scorch marks of vulnerability had already left their scars, damage done; his features turning back into their cold, nonchalant designation, reserved and sullen, morose and eerily defiant, his jaws clenching together as he began to move once more. He wasn’t sure if he cared about Adam strangely defending him, or that the apprehension quelling in his soul never seemed to go away, never alleviated, always some sort of strife chasing them down. He thought himself predictable, habitual, in a sense, when it came to the Shield. Perhaps it hadn’t been enough – and there was that familiar phrase again, echoing and bounding in his ears, in his heart, in his mind. How Safrin had told him he wasn’t really worthy of Amalia. How he’d always known that anyway. So the beast glanced away entirely, back into the frames of forests and groves, where they were supposed to chase down bones and he kept fighting for others that still seemed to think the worst. “I will speak to her,” was all he could say, unwinding, unfurling, steps a bit more savage, a bit more menacing.

Then, perhaps on the same idea as Adam (though he’d missed the forked tongue movement), the man shifted entirely: no longer human, but framed as a tiger, grey and striped, presuming his animal instincts would provide the perfect way of scouring the underbrush, glancing and sensing for things like since passed. Feline eyes passed over the other man quickly, a hint and nothing else, before maneuvering into the forest, lifting his nose to follow haphazard layers of scents.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#10


















Adam felt the sickly knowledge that'd he said too much and gone too far sink in, hoping he hadn't gotten Amalia in too much trouble. He'd only meant to make a point, to let Deimos know on the off chance he was considering leaving he'd have consequences, but he'd been almost certain that wasn't the case - enough so it had almost just been teasing. Still, in a roundabout way (as he tried to justify it to himself)...it was probably good for everything to be out in the open so the couple could have a chat, right? "Don't...worry about it too much. I think she's just upset at the minute. I've said all kindsa shit when things have gone wrong." For example: Yes, I'll marry you.

Seeing as Deimos shifted as he went forward, Adam did too, slinking down to his snake form and slithering along through the grass; likely almost invisible if not for the attuned bone reminding Deimos of his presence. Flicking his tongue out, Adam began to slither to underneath one particular trees roots, where he could smell something...well...dead.

Desperate to move on the conversation now (even if they were looking for bones) he decided to try and chat as if this were just normal work; Deimos would either respond or he wouldn't. Soooo...you done your sun-capturing yet, that you made the basket for?

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#11
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

This was another reason Deimos frequently kept his mouth shut. Anything tainted and tinted in ferocity, in savage ruthlessness, was better exchanged within actions, mettle, and ruin; other notions were often cultivated, mulled, and mused over, even when he wanted to fray apart. But the rest of the world didn’t handle things in the same way, and so he was forced to regard these notions in the back of his mind, all the scalding, broken, embittered entanglements – when he’d always known he wasn’t enough, when Safrin had told him he wasn’t worthy, and when apparently he was an unsettled, doubtful plunge in the Shield’s life. So he clenched his jaw once more, and simply nodded, accepting Adam’s intentions behind it all, but incapable of letting them go.

Out of the corner of his predatory eyes, feline adornments, he noted Adam’s shift – snakes and serpents, half-inclined to wonder if he’d met Jigano in such a form. That brought back a multitude of rancorous efforts – like the Spire’s basement – but he could permit that one to slink away.

His movements were stalking and ravenous, meant for hunting, meant for chasing, meant for annihilating, not much different from his human strides, ears twitching back and forth, picking up on the motions of serpentine undulations. The beast followed, occasionally pawing at the undergrowth, maneuvering aside brush, leaves, and various pulses of debris, nares also picking upon something long since deceased. Adam’s attempts at conversation were commendable, and since they had nothing to do with Amalia and all the other weights he bore across his shoulders, he chiseled some response to it. Yes. A pause, wondering if it would irritate the snake to simply simmer in more foreboding silence for a while. Jigano and I trained as birds, and used little bits of glass meant to represent the sun. It likely sounded a little convoluted, but if a tiger were capable of shrugging, he would have. We tried to tug them off of one another in aerial combat. While he maneuvered further, nose to the ground, he proffered it in return. Have you?

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#12


















Well, he'd either ruined Amalia's day at some point or he hadn't and all Adam could do was hope it'd easily be sorted. Deimos was an odd man, one so unlike himself he didn't know how to act, what would upset him and what wouldn't. At one point he would have bet nothing as meagre as words could have effected the Sword, but of course that was wrong. Beneath the strong set of his jaw, he was just as human as the rest of them.

Adam began to push his nose into the space between the roots, where packed dirt kept him from fully sliding into what was surely a little grave from the smell. While he worked, pushing the earth away so he could access the treasures (...?) within, he was glad to find Deimos had decided to work with him and have a conversation.

Wow, you really don't do anything by half measures, do ya? He laughed, finding it almost comedic and fitting that Deimos had captured the sun via aerial combat. I did it with Jigano too. We just kinda sunbathed for a bit, though. Oh, and I dropped a bucket on him. Just an average day, really; he liked that he seemed to be able to unlock a part of the bard that liked to joke about as much as he did.

Do you ever wonder why we're doing it, though? Everyone just told me to make a basket and start pretending I could grab the sun. What's the point? He was aware this was like a naive question, but Deimos was an Outlander too. He had to have learnt for the first time at some point, right?

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Guildmaster

Age: 27 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 32 - Luck: 31
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,186
MP:
#13
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos would have liked to believe himself an unreachable, unattainable portion of granite or marble, a slate of carved monstrosities and behemoth vows, incapable of being wrought or torn apart by things so meager as emotions. Except this land had pierced all the ramparts he’d ever hoisted or built, and before he’d ever realized it, more than one person had managed to siege into the walls. Family, friends, cherished ones, beloved individuals – while still few and far between – had managed to sequester themselves into his withered, blackened heart. The Reaper would’ve seen them as vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and flaws, a driving point to shatter him with, a blade to finally break and tear apart a formidable foe. But here, the Sword found acceptance, tolerance, for his few words, for his tenacious, stubborn complexities, for his need to safeguard and obliterate in one fell swoop. In that same turn though, the moment something splintered or fragmented, fractured or broke, within that tiny sanction and sanctuary they’d arched around him, the pain and anguish soon followed.

He swallowed it down, gifted in utter nonchalance, a silent, stalking preamble in the intertwining of twigs and leaves. Nose to the ground, he continued following Adam, who might’ve discovered something there, and as the snake pushed its way through, a massive paw came to the forefront, offering to dig into the soil.

The conversation took an intriguing turn, and he tilted his tiger skull in a degree of curiosity and pondering. He’d never been told that he didn’t do anything by halves; though perhaps it’d always been such a way. Assaults, rampaging, slipping into vehemence and violence as if it were common-place, instinctual persistence and precision. Training is training with an almost perceptible shrug. Sunbathing, basking in the glow of the solar rays, seemed like an unachievable thing – not now, not when there were too many other things at stake, responsibilities and tasks mounting and weighing, scalding and persisting. In another time, in another place, he might have a chance to do more than breathe. Relaxing had never been his strong suit anyway. Sounds nice he proffered instead, claws pending to clutch at loam and loosen granules. Including dropping a bucket, for pure amusement purposes.

As for the entire myth and charade, he could only shrug again, a ripple of feline shoulders. Last year it was a way to mingle and understand the Fae. Perhaps we are just continuing the tradition now. Why they did anything at all could always be inquired and asked – but the slightest amount of apprehension curled its way through his being at the notion of some other festivities bound to be annihilated or destroyed, simply because of Fiat Lux’s demise.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Adam Pikely
Swashbuckler

Age: 29 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 16
COFFEE - Mythical - Dragon (Firebreathing)
Played by: Ryan Offline
Change author:
Posts: 759
MP:
#14


















Adam's pushing of the dirt with his snout began to make a difference, the earth moving out of the way as the smell of a dead creature within really began to spill out; as a human he would have found the scent disgusting, but as a snake it was intriguing, not quite appetising (he knew well enough when something was too far gone to eat). I think I might have something here...kinda small though. He announced as he reached in to pull out the carcass of a once living bird by it's permanently closed claw, more bone than flesh now.

Training is training, sure, but...don't you ever do anything just to chill? Y'know, like...do you take Ama out on dates? I'm sure she'd fucking love a date, man. It was difficult to imagine Deimos making a romantic dinner, but he didn't want to discount it right away.

Doing something just for the sake of continuing tradition...Deimos would be able to feel Adam's distaste for that notion through the bond. If he was going to expend energy on something as silly as all the sun-catching he had done, he wanted it to be for a reason. Okay, but why do the Fae do it?

adam
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Please note Adam has 5 large scars across his neck and chin.


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