who we are and all that we're trying to be
Here were the reminders of Basin provocations, little insinuations meant to do more than merely inform. Too many times he’d stood amidst the same clamors, notations, and distinctions, the levels of provocations layered and stoked beneath inquiry. So Deimos remained much the same as the Reaper had been before – nonchalant and reticent, calm and composed, a stoic breath intertwined in his lungs; an ease of yesteryears easing into his blood, into cold dominions. “Some have tasks given by heralds.” Like Jigano and his soul-searching, like Ronin and his quest with Safrin, like others who’d been pulled and plucked for regard when the deities and cosmos was absent from the world.
Ordinarily he wouldn’t permit further information on the wake of Safrin’s incantations, since it’d yet to be accomplished in that particular moment, but Samuel had wanted the world to know of his sacrifices, of his role in protecting. While the Sword had already chiseled and formed plaques to frame on the designated door – proof of both the herald and Ascended’s contributions – perhaps the man would appreciate this portion too (or be haunted; and he’d make best efforts to provide protection again). “Safrin required an Ascended’s upgrade and fluid. Samuel willingly volunteered both. In return, he was healed by Zuriel and received an enchanted prosthetic from me.” A pause, recollecting the cycle of words and phrasing. “Her theory is that the essence of an Ascended might repel the monsters.”
And true – for all their discussion of leaving the apertures locked and alone, he’d never experienced a time where they’d adhered to those requests and demands either. Lives had been at stake, knocks of panic and acrimony, twists and turns of monstrous contortions had made the world churn into a frenzied, wounded, marred interval. And when others screamed for mercy, when others begged for liberation, when others strived to accomplish their missions, where was the right, where was the wrong? Lines blurred, and it was easy to incriminate, easy to point fingers, easy to simply say (but he hadn’t, and perhaps that was where something blistered and burned). His gaze went briefly to Rexanna, and then back to Lily. “Had we not opened doors before, many of us would no longer be here.” Amalia, Rory, Jigano, Samuel, and the Queen herself were just amongst the few he could pinpoint directly – scrambling for salvation, for healing, to remain alive. Had it been idiocy to be out there in the night? Yes; but they’d been striving, attempting for something greater, something grander, and whether it was worth the weight, the flaws, the defects in thereafter would likely be left up to the individual.
“We will try.” It was all he could promise. But he’d be there – strong and stalwart, ready to defend, just as he’d done before.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
