Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?No.
No.
No.
Avid denial didn’t help, a stunned, silent requiem didn’t either. But his eyes widened in disbelief, for those infinite moments where maybe it would’ve worked – shots firing, ringing out over an echoing cavern, Peter protected in Adam’s arms.
Then it didn’t matter.
The frigid blast molded into them again, and this time there was no going back. Death knells torn into frozen instances, intervals, and seconds. Deimos hadn’t known them well at all. Peter had been something of a quiet enigma, and Adam had been managing to coil his way into a makeshift friendship with the Sword, and it was gone. All gone now. Dissipated, broken, ether and fragments, curls of nothingness. Like the way of so many of his other comrades and allies alike, there one day, and gone the next; only these graves were chiseled in ice and stone.
Then he missed.
How many times had he practiced throwing knives? Hurling them at targets? Marking his precision? And for what – for this one god damned moment to mean something, to get them out of there, to ensure they had what they needed and didn’t have to come back?
Death and failure. Failure and death.
But he wouldn’t hang his head. He wouldn’t bow, bend, or break – the sudden infernal sway of his rage coating the vestiges of his soul. Embittered and rancorous, determined and molten, he’d try again. There was no use in ceasing, in desisting, when they’d come this far, when Adam, Coffee, Peter, and his companion had all been sacrificed – when something had to hold meaning.
From their distance in the aperture, he reached into his magic. He embraced the chill when all he wanted was the fire – striving to coax another shield for their sanction, to block an incoming blast, to save them while Amalia prayed and pleaded. The Sword wasn’t going to let the rest of them die here.
Then there was Coffee, and Adam, and Peter, and everything in between. If the Shield could try to negotiate for them, he could still attempt for the little dragon again. He continued to hold up his palms, to will the ice around Coffee, melt it, create a stream to maneuver it and slide it towards them.
--
Using his Mastered Water magic, Deimos tries to make an ice shield in front of Amalia, himself, and Sunjata (and the rest of the companions). He also uses the Mastered Water magic again to try and will the ice to melt around Coffee, create a little stream, and slide the little dragon towards them.
Water manipulation: Can create and control water. Must be within a 30ft radius.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
No.
No.
Avid denial didn’t help, a stunned, silent requiem didn’t either. But his eyes widened in disbelief, for those infinite moments where maybe it would’ve worked – shots firing, ringing out over an echoing cavern, Peter protected in Adam’s arms.
Then it didn’t matter.
The frigid blast molded into them again, and this time there was no going back. Death knells torn into frozen instances, intervals, and seconds. Deimos hadn’t known them well at all. Peter had been something of a quiet enigma, and Adam had been managing to coil his way into a makeshift friendship with the Sword, and it was gone. All gone now. Dissipated, broken, ether and fragments, curls of nothingness. Like the way of so many of his other comrades and allies alike, there one day, and gone the next; only these graves were chiseled in ice and stone.
Then he missed.
How many times had he practiced throwing knives? Hurling them at targets? Marking his precision? And for what – for this one god damned moment to mean something, to get them out of there, to ensure they had what they needed and didn’t have to come back?
Death and failure. Failure and death.
But he wouldn’t hang his head. He wouldn’t bow, bend, or break – the sudden infernal sway of his rage coating the vestiges of his soul. Embittered and rancorous, determined and molten, he’d try again. There was no use in ceasing, in desisting, when they’d come this far, when Adam, Coffee, Peter, and his companion had all been sacrificed – when something had to hold meaning.
From their distance in the aperture, he reached into his magic. He embraced the chill when all he wanted was the fire – striving to coax another shield for their sanction, to block an incoming blast, to save them while Amalia prayed and pleaded. The Sword wasn’t going to let the rest of them die here.
Then there was Coffee, and Adam, and Peter, and everything in between. If the Shield could try to negotiate for them, he could still attempt for the little dragon again. He continued to hold up his palms, to will the ice around Coffee, melt it, create a stream to maneuver it and slide it towards them.
--
Using his Mastered Water magic, Deimos tries to make an ice shield in front of Amalia, himself, and Sunjata (and the rest of the companions). He also uses the Mastered Water magic again to try and will the ice to melt around Coffee, create a little stream, and slide the little dragon towards them.
Water manipulation: Can create and control water. Must be within a 30ft radius.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
