death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch
Deimos had grown up in worlds that took: lives, opportunities, land, and anything else in between. In truth, he hadn’t considered destroying the door (save for Safrin’s insistence on his gaining of knowledge on the distinction), because it had too much potential. While it served as a heartbreaking memory of his idiocy, it could also serve as a measure, a means, to dissolve the monsters at LongNight. The temptation of wielding, instead of discarding, maiming, still churned against him – he’d lived too many lives at the peril of others, in the midst of war, to permit the notions to slip by.
But he listened regardless, for the what ifs. If it got into the wrong hands. If the same thing occurred again. If it was just a pattern of stupidity and foolishness.
A nod, because he did know, but couldn’t quite fathom breaking it into pieces.
The information regarding body parts, and possibilities of Fae, made him turn back to the bar in thought. He hadn’t heard movement from them in quite a long time; not since their justified bitterness over the Mathair incident. The weapon sounded dangerous as well, but he couldn’t quite fathom ever seeing it. “We all know they are not fond of the Ascended.” Not fond being a minute phrase for it; understandably so, given what had happened to their portals and people. The idea of speaking to any Fae leader conjured in his mind, and then he thought better of it; uncertain how far it would carry or go, or who was reigning in the wood. Whether this was doomed to be a repetitive incident, making matters worse, pushing them all to an edge, to a boundary, where one false step meant incitements of war, Deimos couldn’t be certain. It was the overwhelming tension billowing, bellowing, now, proclaiming over the horizon, and at some point they wouldn’t be able to avoid it any longer. “I have not heard anything, but when I return to the Grounds, I will ask around.” Because who was to say this wouldn’t occur again, to any of their citizens? A heavy sigh flickered through him, for it was one more weight along his shoulders, when they’d all carried enough.
But he listened regardless, for the what ifs. If it got into the wrong hands. If the same thing occurred again. If it was just a pattern of stupidity and foolishness.
A nod, because he did know, but couldn’t quite fathom breaking it into pieces.
The information regarding body parts, and possibilities of Fae, made him turn back to the bar in thought. He hadn’t heard movement from them in quite a long time; not since their justified bitterness over the Mathair incident. The weapon sounded dangerous as well, but he couldn’t quite fathom ever seeing it. “We all know they are not fond of the Ascended.” Not fond being a minute phrase for it; understandably so, given what had happened to their portals and people. The idea of speaking to any Fae leader conjured in his mind, and then he thought better of it; uncertain how far it would carry or go, or who was reigning in the wood. Whether this was doomed to be a repetitive incident, making matters worse, pushing them all to an edge, to a boundary, where one false step meant incitements of war, Deimos couldn’t be certain. It was the overwhelming tension billowing, bellowing, now, proclaiming over the horizon, and at some point they wouldn’t be able to avoid it any longer. “I have not heard anything, but when I return to the Grounds, I will ask around.” Because who was to say this wouldn’t occur again, to any of their citizens? A heavy sigh flickered through him, for it was one more weight along his shoulders, when they’d all carried enough.
DEIMOS
