[God Quest] that's the story to tell

not heroes any longer - we are tragedies of firelight and flesh

unholy sacraments of blood and broken bodies

Deimos had played only a little part in these moments – and they’d been devastating footholds, a grappling situation that had grown steadily worse as the instances careened on. He wasn’t surprised to feel the distinction of displeasure pervade as the goddess appeared; because while they had things to show for their efforts, what was lost likely far outweighed the minute successes. The dragon had fallen, amongst its kin, its spirits, its fellow souls, only to be utilized here and now. For a greater purpose? A means to an end? It grated and churned. He said nothing.

Once dead now alive burned against him too, for he was the same. The beast wasn’t certain how many times they’d have to grapple with the situations until they were plucked back into their oblivion. Until mistakes caught up with them, until the cycle broke and fell across their spines once more.

But all of this was for Safrin: misshapen, cracked, splintered, fractured things – themselves and their requiems. He had naught to offer but his presence, unless she required something else. Otherwise, he was stuck in those silent angles and regards of remorse, his eyes flickering to Amalia, Sunjata, and back again to the herald, hollowed, carved out.

what use have we for feeble hymns of wasted faith;

for sordid songs of glory?

DEIMOS