who we are and all that we're trying to be
Zuriel, for all her haughty, condescending features and traits bestowed upon humans, was all too eager to accept acknowledgment and amiability amongst her own kind. The unicorn encouraged Eunike’s approach, a bob and twist of her head, and in perhaps her most charitable action to date, invited and extended a branch of leaves.
Deimos nodded at her help and assistance with the timber, and he maneuvered back to the remains of the log, lifting his ax once more, the power and strength piercing downward once more to fell them into pieces. He listened all the while, deliberate measures and precise distinctions on his tongue; for the most part, he didn’t want the Hollowed Grounds to appear weak or vulnerable to another kingdom. The beast had been a sovereign for too long to let those ruminations or sentiments escape; a quick roll of his shoulders indicating nothing. “Yes.” But there hadn’t been any movement of troops – no reason to – they’d had too many other circumstances miring their way through the terrain. Besides, these weren’t a people like the Reaper’s Basin inhabitants, rampaging through territories with vengeance and vitriol – the Grounders rose through ash, resurgences of cycles and seasons of alterations, traumas, and tragedies. “We have avoided conflict since Zariah.” At least, in matters of militia parameters. He still trained. He still guided. He still influenced.
His attention deviated back to the notions of Rexanna; immersed in some diplomacy, in some political role he never intended to sink into again. Except it was a better conclusion than he’d anticipated, and there was no need of correction or assembling other points, facts, or figures. “Yes.” Another portion of wood was thrown into the wagon, back and forth, not requiring any thought. “They are all true.” The shift of leadership roles and reigns had been ridiculous at best, quick, stupid, ineffectual turnovers after Zariah’s disappearance, and then the subsequent ones trying to make their way into something resembling distinctions. But Rexanna had experience, quietly keeping the peace instead of stoking any flames. “How do you regard Neron’s leadership? Or Zariah’s?” Deimos had heard almost nothing about the former, and had a multitude of opinions and experiences from the latter.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
