DEIMOS
Zuriel, for all her pride, arrogance, and distinctive, tempestuous moods, enjoyed Astra’s presence, and proffered a space for the luxere while the men discussed subjects that didn’t matter to the unicorn. Selfish one moment, and selfless in the next, her capricious composition might’ve been an overbearing, enigmatic thing, but she permitted a place for fellow animals, those bonded to fools, those caught in the grip of loyalty and connections.The Sword, despite action upon action, trial after trial, tribulation amongst tribulations, still never quite understood how to take a compliment, and never expected them when they rendered over the air. A breath loosened from his chest, and the smallest of smiles beckoned on a tilt of his head, as he studied and surveyed the rendered artifact. “Thank you.” Maybe it was relaxing, a relief, for once to not be delving into an item for someone he cherished (someone gone); lacking in the beatific symbolism. Merely there; untarnished by every other misfortune come to rest on cataclysms and bedlam.
A brief study, a perusal, of Loren’s features meant the inquiry had touched, segmented, a nerve. The inquisition to follow his own brandished a weight of ignorance, and perhaps that was beneficial in some way, to not have been caught in the crossfires, in the smoke, haze, and plumes of particular disasters. Quiet, unassuming, fighting the onslaught along his own reaches and potency; drifting into caves to search and snag for lilies with those who were willing to assist. “Just that you had the metal. And the Voice found a cure.” That he didn’t trust, and therefore, didn’t receive, remaining unaware that they’d even been remotely connected.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
