back to life
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 1,819
MP:
#1
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
Promises and assurances, oaths and vows, said long before and stretched into the evening sky now – entangled quandaries rankled in tasks and quests. He moved and maneuvered in rapacious, arching strides, as if weightless, as if galvanized, bag tucked over his shoulder, Amalia carried in the breadth of his arms, because he always would. They were flanked and contorted in the dusky haze, in the ravenous Stygian abyss, the summer air filtering and flickering, choosing a moonlit path to water’s edges. The Oasis rippled and undulated, the pale press of lunar rays billowing its fabrications and pretenses over the surface, a veneer, a mirror, a reflection. The Sword bore everything all at once, neither deluded nor fatigued now, muscles bunched and coiled, contorted and fervent, ready and eager for some conclusion, some interval to be laced without pain or torment.

Crossing over to the embankment, the carved perimeters, he ceased and desisted, lowering the Shield down to the press of verdant blades, the stalks of grass not hampered by humidity or infernos. She could decide how she yearned to twist or turn, how she intended to proceed, while he placed his satchel on the ground, rummaging through the pack for the specialized jar: crystal, concocted and created from Safrin’s instructions. Halfway bound by teasing and taunting, and the other misgivings, truths needing to be uttered and shared, the man corresponded into bridges of silence, amidst the rumbles of unhampered bonds. Adam told me you were afraid I would not marry you after all of this. It was on an air of nonchalance, but the hurt, some amount of apprehension, coiled its way around – he’d promised the other man he would speak with her, but the subject matter might have mended back into something no longer resembling repose. It’d hurt, it’d cut, it’d bent scars on inward lacerations. Do you doubt my vows?

Amongst the quiet, giving her time, he lifted the hem of his shirt, up and over his head, discarding it, pants following soon after, an arch to his brow; some hint, some formation, of a challenge, grasping the jar in his hands.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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Posts: 1,963
MP:
#2
Amalia
She clings to him in the summer evening, sharp claws twined into his shirt without apology, dark eyes - a leopard's eyes - peering through the night. Framed as they are in an otter's face, the effect is particularly uncanny; so, too, is the addition of large qilin ears, and the long tail that snakes out from the base of her spine. A strange amalgamation of animal parts betrays her own underlying uncertainty, her anxiety and doubt and gnawing frustration that she cannot be walking at his side. The night it beautiful, the moon full and bright, and here she is, captive, a slave to her broken body.

At least she is safe within his arms, the unknown terrors of the home she knows so well kept, by his touch, at bay. And when he sets her upon the shore her body changes again, growing and forming into scales and sinew, a symphony of silver and violet beneath the moon. The reflection of the celestial body hangs delicately upon the oasis, pristine enough she wonders if she could not touch it were she to simply reach in her hand. And it is not merely moonlight that lights the glade: harmless fire flickers down her neck, a tuft of it burning on her tail. Together with the stars and Jyoti's presence it creates a beautiful, ethereal scene.

And at its center, him.

Despite her earlier trepidation she can feel herself relaxing. How can she not, in a setting like this: twinkling, luminous, gorgeous reflections, and the object of her ardor framed in it all. Through wide, soft eyes she watches him rummage and prepare; with flickering ears she listens to his unspoken remark, exhaling a snort half-amused, half-chagrined. You saw Adam? she asks instead of answering, trying to gauge how severely her friend had managed to misrepresent her words.

Severely, apparently, and she begins to explain- but of course is cut short as his hands slip under the hem of his shirt, musculature rippling in the flickering light. What thoughts she has formed flit away in an instant; it takes her a moment to regain her composure, swallowing down the sudden heat in her belly, the overt appreciation she always feels for his form.

There are more important things to address, to say, to swear, to reassure. Never, she promises, vows in return, wishing she could go to him, wrap her arms around his figure and back up her oath with the touch of her lips. Sighing, the qilin shakes her great head. He saw me right after and... I was afraid. That I wouldn't be enough for you. She reaches out with her crown, trying to brush against him in any way she can. I'm not afraid anymore. You are the one thing I do not doubt.

Oh, but she is going to murder Adam when she sees him next.
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#3
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
Deimos waited in the dusky, hallowed shadows and light, attention deviating, back and forth along starlit horizons, whales embedded, embossed with galaxies, and qilin fire, the consternations brooding and brewing in his throat. Waited for something to unravel, something to puncture, something to bleed; apprehension always there lately, no matter how many times they maneuvered forward. Waited for the inevitable truths or the daunting precision of fear and doubt, if he’d errored somewhere again, if the matter remained that he wasn’t enough. Every weakness, every flaw, every defect threatened to conjure its way through his mind, spiraling in justification, in retrospect. Too many to name, too many to count.

That she started with just the notion of him meeting with Adam was fair enough; just as bizarre and ridiculous as it sounded. Several times, he noted, all the circumstances penning them together: her health, her wellbeing, two sides of the same coin on those expanses. They differed greatly, but they’d humored one another between basket making and searching for bones, away from fresh graves and wounds. He helped me find some things for Safrin. Not all bad, despite the assignations and insinuations coiling through his lungs, through his frame, through his soul. It’d been the way weight and punctures had deepened on chosen words and phrasing, on misunderstandings lanced and shoved into inward scars, on raw guilt, animosity, and everything else bearing down upon his shoulders. They’d scalded and blistered too many ruminations and speculations the Sword had about himself.

But her words came across the attuned fixtures, the piercing slate of his stare segmenting straight back to hers, a long exhale slipping past his lips, not so drowned, not so beleaguered. It felt like relief, a lightness in his bones, in his heart, that he hadn’t gone entirely astray, that he hadn’t embedded himself into failure in her eyes. Never, he responded in turn, in the extension of adoration and devotion. She’d always be more than what he was worth, more than what he deserved. So he cherished, he loved, and he slid vows, assurances, and strength into their accord, might coursing through limbs, pulsing and pervading in the fervency of his convictions. His hands swept to lilac and argent brows, hues matching the ring on his finger, pressing understanding in gentle, soft touches along her brow, sweeping it across mythical, ethereal fur.

Then he pulled his hair upwards, banding and cording it off, before grabbing hold of the jar, an arched brow sent in her direction meant to goad, entice, challenge, and inveigle. She could join however she wished or simply bear witness, content in her company, outside of the infirmary walls. Thereafter, he jumped within the Oasis’s clutches, splash resounding, spraying, resurfacing with the container still in one palm, gaze lingering on moonbeams, on ways to capture a celestial embodiment.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,963
MP:
#4
Amalia
Are... are Deimos and Adam friends now? What a strange and somewhat unsettling idea - Amalia isn't sure if she should be delighted or horrified. Or a little bit embarrassed, because truth be told she and Peter have only spent time together once, and it was horribly awkward the entire time. Shaking her head in disbelief, the qilin exhales a puff of smoke. What a weird and wonderful world they live in now. She'd better get out of the infirmary soon, she thinks, before it goes further to hell.

That the ardency of their shared vows and exchanged devotion does not diminish in the wake of misunderstandings only strengthens Amalia's certainty that this thing they have is her certainty, the anchor in her storm. As he rubs calloused fingers across her face the quilin shifts a little, lungs gaining the capacity to purr, enamored and delighted by his touch. It is not until he draws away that her fiery devotion fades, a petulant huff exhaled from large nares.

The water is glorious, the moonlight exquisite, and he is an adonis in its midst. She aches to join him, to splash and delight in disrupting his careful planning, to draw laughter from his throat and a smile to his lips. You promised to teach me to swim, she remarks, half reminder, half request. She is afraid of encroaching, afraid of drowning, afraid afraid afraid, but he makes her braver, brazen, bold, and she wants to bask in his embrace.
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#5
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
He thought naught more of Adam – akin and alive to the serene distinction of satellite surfaces and rippling veneers, a cast of cool water shifting against his skin, the way the water always called, well before mountains ever had. For a moment he was breathless, intangible, taut strings of sinew resting in the tranquility, his mind not occupied by anything but the stars, lunar rays, basking in the glow of the moon, and her. Like midnight veils and strands, as if it were a world untouched by previous disasters and ruins, so utterly capable of moving forward and beyond, and his eyes were filled with it for an instant; coveting the quiet, the hushed layers of everything and nothing all at once. His shoulders were less burdened, his spine less rigid, his frame less braced – because the Shield was still alive, on the mend – and they were there, together, without everything else placed upon their vessels. It was a hallowed sort of mirage, and he’d take it for all it was worth.

The Sword could hear her purrs, her huffs, the slow curl of a grin forming on his mouth, until he plunged, until he recalled, remembered, the press of primordial nuances meandering along his bones, his marrow, his soul. Understandings broached and comprehension unwound, no need for further predilections and regard, when he had her here, when they were more than concaved, broken figures on edges of shorelines. I did; on the rummaging of promises and convictions, he’d give her a hundred, a thousand, and aim to keep them all. He turned away from the pale sheen across the expanse, a slow, winding movement and motion through the oasis, and perhaps he’d been sculpted from its expanse too, in the ways he’d been born beside tides and elements, fixtures of sieges and rapture. Time had gotten away, and prospered nowhere – last year’s instances for swimming scattered amongst tyrannies and rebellions, masses carving their insurrection into ribcages and stones.

Was now the best opportunity either? No – not when she couldn’t move her legs, not when she couldn’t kick her way through calm vestiges. However, it was only a limitation, only for a scattered trace of their story, one he tangled and webbed himself within. A reach for constellations, a search for stars, calloused hands embarking, leaning across the embankment, offering to carry, to anoint, to cherish, to hold, for as long as she would allow.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,963
MP:
#6
Amalia
He did: another promise he means to keep, an oath made under a different sun and after a different disaster. Now he glistens among the water, moonlit and anointed in the lilac of her fire, arms outstretched, offerings made; Amalia shivers at it all. She is still afraid, but beautifully so, a shiver of anticipation running down that part of her spine which still is capable of such a reflex.

She cannot rise and walk to him, but perhaps there are other ways to give her consent. Slowly, carefully, the girl shifts, her body morphing into feathery features, wings extending as arms shrink and change. Her rear legs do not take on the owl, instead adopting an otter's appearance, though that too fails to give her any level of security upon the ground.

But that doesn't matter when she's in the air.

Why had she not thought of this earlier? It's a little awkward, taking wing from a sitting position, but the girl pulls it off. Well enough to make her way to the water, at least, the otter's hind claws brushing across its surface as she sends herself hurtling into Deimos' arms, shifting once she strikes his form, taking on in full the semi-aquatic shape. Looking up into his blue eyes, the otter tries not to cling too tightly to his skin despite her riotous anxiety. Is this okay?
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#7
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
At the root and core of him was eternal patience: an embodiment of time and composure, of calm amongst the calamity. Though apprehension occasionally brewed, because the unknown was a twisted, gnarled, knotted clambering between experiences and enigmas, it was the perseverance and endurance he always returned to. It was in his breath, in his lungs, in his heart, coiled against his ribs, beating alongside his veins, poised and prepared for endless onslaughts or the weathered stitchings of deliberation. For all his flaws, defects, and faults, determination wasn’t amongst them: a solid, stoic beast waiting for her to decide. He could hope, he could crave, but it wouldn’t matter unless she wanted the same – his arms still there, his figure ready to receive her in whatever way she meant to embark.

The glow of the moon lacquered over snowy feathers, extended to reach him, and his hands were poised, gentle, ready, as otter legs skimmed over water. Within an instant, she was at his chest, and his arms curled protectively, instinctively, around her, echoes and fractions of things and moments passed. Things he’d always offer, always give; strength and might, fortitude and persistence. Yes, a beat within their roles and lives, assurance as he maneuvered back to where he’d left the crystal jar, shifting and placing her along his shoulder, adjusting as necessary. If she wanted to linger on the top of his cranium or wind herself along his nape, that was fine too – whatever means were more feasible as they embarked. All right? For the moment, at least, as he grabbed hold of the container, and they began their motions along the oasis, intertwined and interspersed in laden lunar light. The beast was sorely tempted to begin swimming, diving down beneath the depths, the sensation of yesteryears and worlds apart drifting within his cranium, but not until she felt safe and secure. It wouldn’t be the same; but on the promises and convictions of more opportunities, more intervals, more aimed towards the future, this would just be a step in the right direction.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,963
MP:
#8
Amalia
Through skin and hair, in arms and hands, she finds a place of comfort, of home. Claws adjust carefully, aspiring to keep from tearing against his skin as she shifts around to his back. The water, ever a source of trepidation for the girl, is much less frightening in the otter form. Even without the use of her legs she can feel herself floating, gliding easily as she maneuvers across his form until her claws are tangled in his mane, holding to his shoulders, ready to fly in another way.

All right.

She is alright, for the first time in days, ready to dip beneath the blue and taste the clear waters of the Oasis. Trust pulses through the Attuned bond, faith that he will not let her drown, whatever their next misadventure may be. He is her ship in the storm, after all.
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#9
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
Even if claws tore into his skin, it would’ve mattered little. What was one more scar in a sea of them, scattered white lines and their stories of keen blades serrating, of missed moments, of days where he continued to persist, to persevere, to endure? Much like theirs now, constantly maneuvering forward despite the sinking, tremulous feelings, the clutching of claws, the rampaging decibels careening around their heads. For instances like these, when they had no other options or alternatives (because he would not sink; a refusal to bend and break and shatter). By now she must have figured out he’d do anything for her.

A hold on his mane, along shoulders, agreements finalized – and he inhaled one massive breath, a warning to Amalia of his intentions, before extending his arms, motioning forward, legs pushing off, before they dove below the surface. The water surrounded, and he was at peace for the first time in what felt like centuries, pervaded, contorted, amongst the ripples and boundaries. Each muscle undulated, poised for the motions, the crystal jar in his hand not a bother or a hindrance, basking for as long as he could beneath the veneer, before rising once more. They broke over the surface and he was content, a maneuvering wake of precision and prowess, accustomed to the power of water, the wake of its derision, the tranquility of its surroundings.

Before long though, they’d reached the destination – in the middle of the pool, amongst pale plumes and rivulets from the lunar glow, a radiant abyss caused by the hanging moon. The beast motioned until they were in the middle of it, surrounded by ivory haze and hues, by flickers of resplendence and serenity. Treading water, legs ensuring they managed to stay upright, he drew the jar before him, removing the lid, and then inquired, breaking the silence. “Do you want to do the honors?” Deimos raised the crystal-ware to her otter claws, pondering if she wished to capture the light, the water, in control of her own destiny and fortune.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,963
MP:
#10
Amalia
A warning, a deep breath, and then they are below- and for the first time in days the girl does not feel her legs behind her like a ball and chain. In the water Amalia is weightless; in the water Amalia can move. It feels liberating, freeing; she wants to laugh or cry, but she is submerged, otter form suited to peering through the water, the liquid pulling lovingly at the strands of her coat.

Again they rise and again they fall, breaths between submerging again into a beautiful world, a peaceful world, interrupted by dream fish and bright shafts of moonlight. At last they reach the center of it all, silhouetted in silver and the warm summer air. By now Amalia has changed again, and it is arms that reach around his shoulders, a body that is anchored against his. Skin to skin, man to woman: "You do it," she smiles, pressing the jar back. "It's your quest, after all."
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#11
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
Hands on shoulders instead of claws; breathing easier as they float in the serenity, in the ambience, stretches and paths of moonlight rippling in sanctions, in sanctuaries, in sanctums. The jar wasn’t taken in her grasp though, sent back to his own - his quest, eventful circumstances leading to strange occasions; requesting a god’s aid, admitting he couldn’t do something on his own. For her, the constant anthem and pledge.

Even more bizarre were the circumstances following: fingers clutching the crystal container again, leaning forward, only the notion of trying to snag the water lifted into his thoughts: when the liquid sailed, cascaded, and maneuvered on its own. A layer of confusion clung to his mind, suspicion clambering alongside, pondering if it was just the wake of enigmatic twists and turns, if it was something the Oasis clambered about and within. Except he lifted a digit, a singular command in his machinations, and witnessed droplets rise from the pool, and fall directly into the jar again. Like pale flashes of moonlight, the magic in their hue dissipating once they were snatched and locked away, they erupted and volleyed, pursuing one another in consecrated streaks, more and more each time.

Deimos had nothing to say for a few moments, watching, swallowing, choking down too many edges and fringes. His chest tightened, quick, controlled breaths released from his lungs over and over again as naught but his mind seemed to cast the water along the surface, the veneer, the entity. The beast had once seen this sort of thing over and over and over again – powerful and potent, fluid and strong, casting walls and shields, gripping and pulling tides, segmented along stern brows and hushed, quiet strength. This is my mother’s magic. Ghosts and poignancy clambered and rushed around his cranium, and he fell even more subdued, quiet, at the notions of what it could mean, gaze falling upon the glassy surface when he ceased, when it stilled, when the jar had been filled.
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,963
MP:
#12
Amalia
Her arms around his shoulders, she is his shroud, his shield, her body pressed against his back in protective adoration. She places her chin upon his nape as he takes the jar again, her warm breath creeping up his neck, her wide eyes wondering as he reaches for the water.

And the water comes: in waves, in rivulets, rising to the sky. It glitters with moonlight and silver swirls, beauty in the control of it, the way it is drawn to him with a thought. As the jar fills she can feel his trepidation, his silence loud as his mind composes; she can feel his heartbeat shudder in his neck, her cheek pressed against the beating artery. Silently Amalia allows the experience, wondering what it is that has brought him to this place.

And then the answer: My mother's magic. It is beautiful, Amalia acknowledges with a smile, wrapping her arms around him tighter, her own heart a butterfly beat in her chest. She would be proud. I am. Will you take it to Safrin?
reach for the stars: but child, first recognize
the constellations of light you already carry
inside you
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,819
MP:
#13
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones
Need and compulsion caused him to lean back into her protective threshold, wrapped and veiled, shrouded in his tendency to grow silent in the midst of melancholy. Perhaps he should’ve been happy, content, overwhelmed with excitement and enthrallment, at the capability of casting the same figments, the same glories. He could hear Amalia’s response, about its beauty, about Stone being proud (would she – he wondered – would she be proud?). He’d never quite known in the quiet, in the hushed reverberations, and he was half-inclined to hang his head, to bow against the moon and flicker apart; undeserving, unworthy undulations rippling through his veins. Maybe they were blessings; fire and water, curling in his blood long before he could ever bring them to live. Maybe they were nothing but circumstance, and he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to cherish that.

Amalia tightened her hold, an all-knowing compulsion, the strength he required in the moment, and he softened his rigid surface, his bewildered haze, brought back to the present in a few blinks, a few breaths. The jar in his hands, the water adorned and ready, everything else assembled for the quest. Yes, he could only talk in their bond, jaw clenched and shut tight, swallowing down too many memories, too many intricacies, in the serene glow, in the things laden between bones, ribs, and hearts. Then he followed through on the same pattern as before, taking them across rivulets and oasis, towards embankments, where they could adjourn and begin again.

(-FIN)
looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's going to break these chains
DEIMOS


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