DEIMOS
The statement was something of a deflection; Deimos had been capable of warranting his own on multiple occasions. A narrowing of his eyes contorted briefly, as if he wasn’t quite believing in some aspect of the response, but then let it go quietly, because it wasn’t his business. Zuriel snorted in between both of them, which settled the nuances surrounding the answer anyway.
Magic being the sole answer to the way the man worked could be easily believed; he’d just never seen anything like it. “It is very quick,” was all he could surmise, that the stranger had become a blur, that his lanterns were done, complete, long before the Sword had started on Kiada’s. But he caught the faintest glimmer of a smile from Glas, and he wasn’t certain what that meant, between the scars, the nuances, and the hushed decibels.
He breathed a long inhale, exhale, before drawing back to the Harpy’s adornments, casting feathers from the tips, arcing and arching so they unfurled and uncoiled, so everyone would know exactly who and what this tale represented. Along the rest of the storyline, the blocking, the painting, the details, he orchestrated a means of monsters and hunters, of ragged ghosts, of burgeoning, blistering actions, of a world she should’ve occupied for so much longer. The last was to be of her and Chulane and Auni, luxere adornments and leopard spots and everything else notched in between.
And then he simply stared at them, pushing the two artifacts before him, studying, examining, scrutinizing, and wondering if they would ever be good enough for the two souls he missed the most.
Magic being the sole answer to the way the man worked could be easily believed; he’d just never seen anything like it. “It is very quick,” was all he could surmise, that the stranger had become a blur, that his lanterns were done, complete, long before the Sword had started on Kiada’s. But he caught the faintest glimmer of a smile from Glas, and he wasn’t certain what that meant, between the scars, the nuances, and the hushed decibels.
He breathed a long inhale, exhale, before drawing back to the Harpy’s adornments, casting feathers from the tips, arcing and arching so they unfurled and uncoiled, so everyone would know exactly who and what this tale represented. Along the rest of the storyline, the blocking, the painting, the details, he orchestrated a means of monsters and hunters, of ragged ghosts, of burgeoning, blistering actions, of a world she should’ve occupied for so much longer. The last was to be of her and Chulane and Auni, luxere adornments and leopard spots and everything else notched in between.
And then he simply stared at them, pushing the two artifacts before him, studying, examining, scrutinizing, and wondering if they would ever be good enough for the two souls he missed the most.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
