remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Neither the Reaper nor the Sword had ever been one for excuses. No matter the situation, there was a call to action, to doing, to thinking, rather than petulance, ignorance, or wailing. These, even amidst the miniscule foundations, were the moments that broke apart the weak, or allowed the willful, the enduring, to find a way. Mistakes could be made (it was how they learned, how they grew, how they achieved), but fumbling, whimpering, and yowling over circumstances they’d volunteered themselves for, was far and away an irritation in the back of the General’s mind.Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn’t heard Freina’s.
At least, amidst all that prior contemplation, she had an idea. The water surged and yielded to her ministrations, pushed and shoved against until it arced, over both her and Oliver’s heads. “Good,” he praised, a nod of certainty extended towards her.
Which was probably just as well, since the blacksmith missed yet again.
The growl pierced towards him however, would not go unanswered. He’d assisted the youth many times, and no matter the circumstances, grumbling and sniveling seemed to follow. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, and a deep insinuation of his disappointment ranged across the field. “Are you going to whine at every challenge you face?” Did Oliver listen, or did he merely wander in his wallows, hoping someone would rescue him? Was thinking for himself so difficult, that the instant no one told him what to do, he sunk into yowls? This task was so minuscule, so trivial, in the pursuit of other ventures, disasters, and demolition. He would’ve been one of the individuals the Reaper left to fend for himself; out amidst the perils of the world, to either sink or swim, to rot and decay.
But here he couldn’t, and some portion of that vexed too. “These indecisive moments are when others perish.” One of these days the moaning, the griping, the incapability of actual thought was going to get someone killed.
Another lingering stare, a penetrating, fierce malevolence brooding and brewing underneath, fixtured and fixated on the other man. It was a finality, a configuration of ice and rime; uncertain if it would even simmer into the boy’s brain. How many times had he tried before, to no avail? Then why was he even here, if he only stood there to complain?
Eventually, he breathed a sharp inhale, funneled away and suppressed the grinding rage, focusing his attentions on Rance and Aisha. At the very least they had pressed into what he’d asked, configuring and applying notions, conduct, and possibilities amongst and amidst themselves. Why not use their Attuned natures to contort parameters already at their disposal? He watched, the birds still aiming, still closing in, Aisha remaining a target, while Rance locked in on the ones within reach, a lure, a trap. “Very clever,” he announced. Talons and claws didn’t hit their marks, perhaps he’d mistakenly snagged at swift raptors, but they’d tried.
Thereafter – he sent the birds away – and they scattered off into directions from whence they’d come, and the rush of water incantations segmented back into his palms. “Take a break, while I ready the next round.” Beverages would be available over to the side, or a chance for them to sink into the ground, catch their breaths, relay their efforts, as he paced and drew out lines in the snow. Between his hands, he concocted two flags, one in red fabric, the other in blue, and marked them upon opposite ends of the snowy field.
When they’d recovered, he drew before them again, proclaiming their next efforts. “I thought we might attempt a Capture the Flag game, to demonstrate either your magical or Attuned abilities.” His hands motioned towards the lines, Attuned towards the blue, incantation users to the red. “Strategize together, and think of the best way to snag the opponent’s flag.” A militant tactic, rudimentary but effective, to see what they could handle.
Deimos waited until they collaborated, before signaling they could begin.
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The next round is Capture the Flag. Discuss a strategy with your teammate, and then try your hand! Please indicate who you’re going after, so I can inform the other writers of rolls.
No post order! Let the chaos reign!
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
