DEIMOS
Oh, he’d known, in some way, shape, or form, but had held some ridiculous, stupefying faith in discussions around council meetings, in lecture halls, in things beyond these damning ramparts now. Because they’d opened doors to let them all in. Because they’d let Rex and Samuel and the hordes of other back into the fold of safety when everything dissipated and disrupted. Because he thought they could be better. Because he thought he could’ve outwitted some sentiments.
For which he was thoroughly wrong, and Rexanna had paid the consequences.
The diatribes ceased though, on the promise of his potential persecution. He’d eternally been a man of commitment, of vows, of assurances, whether it be in protection or predilection – bodies long since lost off the sides of mountains after his warnings went unheeded. When Bastien quieted, so too did his own levels of rage, simmering below the surface, curling back into their foundations.
The beast had naught for Bastien’s tears, his own emotions clambering behind his eyes, piercing them away because he couldn’t handle them at the moment. Instead his gaze went down, down, down, to the floor, incapable of looking at her. Just last year they’d had similar circumstances – and he’d pulled beams out of her chest, healed and mended where he could – nothing for it now. His breath steadied, sharp inhales and exhales, as he spoke. “What about her soul?” Would the monsters have it? Would it be a similar situation Kiada had been in, with Ru’in? No place for Mort in an Ascended’s life – where did they go? His thoughts wandered to Jigano, to soul-searching, to the light of a lantern, to the impending walk amongst the grounds.
For which he was thoroughly wrong, and Rexanna had paid the consequences.
The diatribes ceased though, on the promise of his potential persecution. He’d eternally been a man of commitment, of vows, of assurances, whether it be in protection or predilection – bodies long since lost off the sides of mountains after his warnings went unheeded. When Bastien quieted, so too did his own levels of rage, simmering below the surface, curling back into their foundations.
The beast had naught for Bastien’s tears, his own emotions clambering behind his eyes, piercing them away because he couldn’t handle them at the moment. Instead his gaze went down, down, down, to the floor, incapable of looking at her. Just last year they’d had similar circumstances – and he’d pulled beams out of her chest, healed and mended where he could – nothing for it now. His breath steadied, sharp inhales and exhales, as he spoke. “What about her soul?” Would the monsters have it? Would it be a similar situation Kiada had been in, with Ru’in? No place for Mort in an Ascended’s life – where did they go? His thoughts wandered to Jigano, to soul-searching, to the light of a lantern, to the impending walk amongst the grounds.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
