DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
The Fae had always been a furtive race to him – secretive in their wooden labyrinths, in their rituals, traditions, willing to share portions of their home to outsiders, and the rest laden within their locked corridors. A conniving strategy, and one he’d often employed and utilized along Basin roots and routes. One never knew how many lurked there. One never knew how powerful they were. One never knew how capable, precise, or cunning – until moments were brandished and unleashed. The Sword had a healthy respect for them – where they seemed to crave isolation, left for themselves, committed to their stakes and claims, and no other lands. And then barriers fell and Ascended meandered – wandering further into the fold, and ruining creatures, things, once blessed and revered. He’d been there, a monolith near the Wraith, when Delah had demanded repercussions for the Queen’s antics. He’d listened as it had led to turn-overs, to Rexanna becoming the Penumbra, and other circumstances rendered all over again. “Wessex is Queen in the Grounds again.” Another modicum of potential tempests, threats, and treacheries, given the history. That could’ve been the storm, or the cycle of vengeance he’d seen springing to life in Nephele’s words, statements, and inquiries. Or anything else – with these waves of change barreling into them.
Were the Fae damned and doomed then? Was that why she’d come, seeking out either asylums, leaders, or alliances? He mused and presided, leaning back in the chair, crinkling the papers together into neat folds.
His eyes lingered away from her now, down upon the wooden surface of the table, incapable of surmising everything about how they lived, breathed, thought, or existed. “We live in communities, like you. We try to protect one another. But I am not certain the Fae have been on many of our minds for a while.” The beast paused, and realized that wasn’t quite true – reflecting back to his own experiences. “One of yours, Nephele, did come to see me about the Ascended.” Deimos would let that moment sit in the immersed silence – taking another swallow of his drink.
Unite and spread the heart apart
