[Mini Event] rollin' bones

DEIMOS

the resurrected sword

The chaos continued, reigning, his head finally turning back towards the beach, where there seemed to be some sort of gathering, unfurling, and unwinding. His eyes fixtured back to Amalia, ragged and masked, finding her to be altered, changed, back to her old form; the game finalized, exposed. He shook his head and snorted, the amusements left behind for another day, another segment in time, treading water in the waves.

If only that had been the only thing to occur.

But then there was an erupting of things: glowing figures amidst the waves, not tangible, not corporeal, but seemingly figments and illusions, some immersed close to him, his eyes widening, taking in the sailors, the manta, the assortment of others. Ghosts and wraiths, phantoms and specters, but seemingly not cruel, not contemptuous, flickering about in merriment.

Then a boat to follow, rope ladders unleashed, and all the while the Sword simply stared, the uncertainty and apprehension curling around him. He watched as some boarded without preamble, perhaps no consternation to the antics, to the actions surrounding the waves. He maneuvered towards the boat, swimming along the current, hesitation still embedded, immersed in his form, intending to wait for the Shield before deciding to board, or not at all.

under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed