[seasonal event] dust and decay

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Something found and unearthed, and the tiger’s nose concurred with the notion immediately. His eyes glanced at the carcass, bird-like, bone and fragmented, left for nothing, to waste away in the soil. At least now it would suit another purpose. Well done he manifested, shifting immediately back into human forms, the bag he’d some yards away retrieved so he could snag another jar from its contents, hands grasping the bone without hesitation.

He snorted at the insinuation of chilling. There’d been nothing relaxing since Fiat Lux, and ordinarily Deimos would be hard-pressed to situate himself with lazing about or basking. There were too many responsibilities, tasks, militias, and guilds to run and manifest, to ever gaze up into the sky or horizon, give no thought, no introspection, to the rest of the world shifting around him. “Not lately,” and he was sure Adam would be intelligent enough to surmise why, the nuance of the particular quest settling amongst calloused palms. “Yes. Our last one was at Fiat Lux,” and while it didn’t end on bitter tones, because wonderful things had transpired (engagements, dances), it was difficult to hold dates within an infirmary, where they were both restless and on edge. “When all of this is over,” he promised with a shrug, placing the bone within another jar, listening to the clink of its splintered, fractured claws fall upon the glass.

The Sword’s eyes lingered back upon the snake though as aversion and dislike lingered through, not his own (for once), furrowing his brows slightly in confusion. Unfortunately, he’d long been instilled in verses of tradition since Isilme, since Helovia, because at one point they’d thrived on it, recurring events year after year with aspects of normalcy, despite being surrounded and surmounted by war. But he didn’t have an answer for Adam – not in the way the man likely would’ve grasped and held. That would be a question for them. Did you talk to any before? In his time within the pit? Trapped amongst the village?

DEIMOS

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

Deimos took his bones and praised his efforts and Adam lifted his serpentine head to do a happy proud wiggle, watching his find be placed in their bag. Do you know how much we should get? We're still looking for more? He asked, experimentally flicking out his tongue to try and locate the next carcass for him to find. Amalia's gonna have bits and bobs from all over in her, huh? At least it sounded like Deimos took Amalia out, something that pleased Adam. He'd always been the 'meddle in all my friends business' types, and if he'd learnt that Deimos didn't treat her right, he'd have given the man a rather lengthy lecture on the benefits of a nice walk. Yeah. Maybe take her to somewhere out of the Ground - somewhere exciting. He had yet to go to Torchline himself, but the second he'd heard there was a beach, he'd wanted to be there with Pet watching the tide roll in. Adam couldn't help but laugh at Deimos' question, rolling off the root and onto the forest floor. When do you think I would've? While they were pushing me off the cliff or when they were starving me? He'd actually managed to get over it now (and had been to the Greatwood a couple of times), but he'd hardly had a good time during his first trip to the Greatwood, the only time when he'd actually seen a Fae. 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

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

There was an arch to his brow as Adam seemed to segment a jubilant wiggle of his frame, if the attuned bond was any indication, muffling a snort as he closed his bag once again. The goddess had only requested one bone, however, and they were likely settled on that notion. He shrugged, not bothered either way; he could always shift again, strive to find the death knells this time. “This should be fine, unless you scent more nearby.” As for Amalia having bits and bobs within her, Deimos wasn’t so sure how the items were to be utilized or segmented: if they were to be combined and notched for new spinal works, or pieced together spiritually; deity powers and predilections just as unknown to him. “I do not know how Safrin is using them though.”

He slung the satchel back over his shoulder for safekeeping while Adam continued to speak some ideas and notions of dates, smothering another interval of contemplation and upheaval in the same breadth. Deimos was likely the opposite in prying, unless he sensed something was truly of, with friends or family – furtive and reserved in his own regard, and not intending to delve into too many confines or walls. They were usually ramparted off for a reason. But the nuance of Torchline hadn’t been forgotten: he just hadn’t gone there due to Amalia’s injuries, too busy, too immersed in his other duties, to contemplate venturing off without her. Maybe the ocean then the Sword contemplated; for a honeymoon or just another adventure not involving dramatics, theatrics, or severed limbs.

The beast managed a smirk, a snicker, at Adam’s laughter, at the inquiries melded thereafter. Fair enough. Amalia had managed to whittle away her time in convincing them to release her and snag a starwhale, but perhaps Adam’s inclinations hadn’t segmented so far. “Ianto once told me it was due to their ties with the old gods.” Which wasn’t so different from the ways of the Hollowed Grounds and those who cherished the heralds and deities.

DEIMOS

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

That the small amount he'd found was enough came as a bit of a surprise (and disappointment, in a way: it had hardly been an epic quest) but Adam nodded and slithered off the tree before transforming back to his human form, standing up from the forest floor and whistling for Coffee to return to him; the little dragon immediately settled on his place on Adam's shoulders. "Well, you tell her I got her legs from a stinky bird in a tree." He chuckled, sure he was going to tell her if Deimos didn't. An ocean date with Amalia and Deimos...some advice he had recently given Jigano came to Adam's mind, but he decided not to impart it. "That's a nice idea. I wanna take Pet sometime. And you should be able to fight off any scummy pirates, I'm sure." Especially as the pirates here, as far as he knew, would be without firearms - really a disgrace to all sexy rogue kind. "Hmm. Maybe if I can meet a Fae sometime when they're not trying to fucking kill me or shove me in a pit, I'll ask." Adam clapped his hands together then, took a couple of steps towards the fields. "So...are we done...?" 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

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

He likely wouldn’t tell Amalia about where the bones came from or how they were destined to be used, considering he wasn’t sure himself. He snorted again instead, shaking his head, rummaging through the bag on his shoulder, ensuring everything was in place. Safe. Secured. One more piece together, series of cycles and sojourns left to immerse in the same intertwined threads and nuances.

Maybe at this point he’d look forward to pirates – a change from caves, underground lairs, and Spire basements. Or perhaps they’d simply be able to relax (an entirely foreign concept), to breathe, without some other dastardly ruin barreling down upon them.

Deimos thought to mention Jiao, a Fae he’d conversed with who didn’t immediately threaten anyone and seemed intent on simply making clothing, since he’d contorted fabric in exchange for information a year or so ago – but Adam didn’t seem wholly intent on the idea anyway. The General shrugged, content for the moment with maneuvering forward, with gaining ground on the quests still lingering, still waiting to be executed, finished, and gathered before Safrin. “We are done.” A single nod, acknowledging the minor feats. “Thank you for the help.” Because it was the truth, and he was grateful for anyone and everyone willing to participate and aid. Then he maneuvered away from the tree line, back across the fields, careful to avoid glancing over at the husks of demolished stalls.

(-FIN)

DEIMOS

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