remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
A lack of surprise or jump would’ve incited a pout, but he smirked instead, the etchings of its lines beginning in the corner of his mouth. “Warden,” he extended thereafter, already pausing to swallow down some of his drink – eyes flickering elsewhere in the modicum of predator inherency, before pinpointing back to Morgan, a nod at her gratitude, and then waiting for something else to be funneled.It came on the topic of sickness, and he placed the drink back on the table, leaning back in his chair, retaining his own mode of comfort. A tilt of his head might’ve ensued or incited the thoughts whirling behind the piercing gaze, running through the symptoms, afflictions, and sickness still rampant in his form. “It comes and goes.” A shrug yearned to curl over his shoulders, to wave off the disaster as he’d always done - I am fine - when it probably was anything but. Perhaps he needed to cease and desist with the pretenses, with feigning, with billowing away concerns after concerns. Even that motion of thought was a struggle, so innately used to shoving his own lacerations or distresses away from the limelight. The contempt of vulnerability, the fabrications of weakness. His stare slowly rounded back to the table, upon his drink, fighting off the urge to clench his jaw. “Mostly tired. If I try to do too much. Or the hallucinations come back.” Then he’d take a drink of water and stave it off. Ritual, routine, but likely no good in the long run.
The last statement ensued a snort, his fingers casually drumming on the resin. “That is correct. I did not.” Stubborn, obstinate, and tenacious in his thoughts on the goddess, the deep rumble of his tones offered brief explanations. “I do not trust her.” He ceased the movement of his hands, stilling, instantly an unyielding portion of controlled menace. “Years ago, she and the Ascended caused the blight, a sickness that afflicted friends and family.” Kiada; and something in his chest snapped up against his ribs. “She did nothing about it. We had to find a cure.” The Sword presumed the only reason she assisted at all was because her own had also been caught in the webs of the malady – or that there was a more manipulative measure behind it.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
