remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Methodical and scrupulous as the beast had always been, he’d never pondered over successors in his days amidst the Basin. He wasn’t even sure who’d taken up his mantle after his death, had never asked, had never bothered those who’d existed in similar pathways and timelines (and it was late now). Machinations were reserved for present circumstances or for future unravelings, calculations rendered in meticulous frameworks a foregone conclusion, but demise, he’d learned, never gave an ounce of care towards someone’s schemes. So he snorted, a light shake of his head, as he finished the drink, placing the mug aside. “A little. There is only so much we can control.” He would know; given how much composure, contortions, command, and calm steeled over him like a lacquer. His attention deviated back to other plans and unfoldings anyway, sketching out armor similar to what he’d made Kiada before – though Morgan and the Harpy didn’t have quite the same build, and he adjusted accordingly; a few notations scribbled over. At the musings of something that couldn’t be regarded as armor, his eyes narrowed a fraction, thoughts mulling over one another. Did she mean for it to be a duplicitous, specious design, or simply not ostentatious, layer upon layer upon layer? “What about a pendant? Or a brooch? A crest?” Something not quite unmistakable, but could be worn underneath other garments, and not doomed to be caught, snagged, or ruined moments after. “Do you have a color preference?”
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
