lightning glance [Seasonal Event]
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

He waited until the sun had settled at its peak – warm, despite the chill of the season, before making his way out to the woodlands again. It had become a habit, a routine, to wander amidst clearings and copses, like an incandescent reminder of things long since passed and gone (why he recalled mist and fog, the roll of the waves hitting against rocky outcrops). Sometimes the shadows treated him like an old friend, and they meandered together, sticking to the dusk and the gloom, the Stygian shrouds welcoming him back into the agonizing threshold. It was an invitation to immorality, and ordinarily he might bask right in the thick of it, be that nefarious, sinister opus again, dragged from perils and given a suitable task. But if he intended to survive throughout the winter, he wouldn’t be able to meander in the throes of darkness and upheaval for long.

He spotted his main mission in one of the sunlit clearings, a fallen oak tree, departed from its roots, blown down and away from a storm. He preferred the sensible hardwood to the softer cedar or pines, they burned better, provided more heat, wove their last breaths in a phoenix flare. The already felled timber also required less work, prospered efficiency rather than returning at later time, when he’d rested and restored his stamina from mauling it from its living precipice. Besides, it would dry out faster, a lot less green than the ones still occupying the wood, still providing vitality.

Deimos placed the sled he’d been dragging nearby, presuming it would be easier to maneuver amongst the snow, sticks, branches, and bramble rather than a wheelbarrow, and picked up the ax resting across it. It was strong, durable, a content buzz of weaponry in his hands, but it wouldn’t be used for an executioner’s swing, barbaric and keen – suited precisely for cutting away at the resting log. He made his way over, disturbing the peace and tranquility as he raised the ax over his head and brought it down in brawny precision, eyeing the measurements with a few glances, moving down the timber and slicing it into neat sections. It was methodical work, brought a refreshing ache and relish to his muscles, and allowed him to simply work without the essence of any other mutinous thoughts.



Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Rexanna
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#2
She had heard the reverberating cracks and snaps through the woods, at first standing still uncertain of what the sound came from. But it didn’t get closer to her, instead the more she listened to it, the more she began to wonder if it was someone wielding an axe and chopping wood. She was curious, to see where the source was, and if nothing else to perhaps be able to trade with whomever it was for some of the wood. Rexanna wrapped herself in her bundles of furs and leathers, tightening the bag she had made around her shoulders as she trudged through the snow toward the sound.

It didn’t take long to reach the person that had caused the sound, and she wasn’t afraid of what she found. Instead, as she looked upon Deimos’ back, a wide grin spread across her face. “Deimos!” She called out, her voice a thick seductive purr as she moved quicker through the snow and dropped her bag alongside it before making her presence more known. “Would you like some help with that wood?” She hummed to him, tilting her head and gesturing with her bundled up arm to the wood and not whatever else her mouth might have suggested. She wasn’t entirely sure how she could help, but she knew she wanted to.

Perhaps Deimos would be kind enough to give her some of it for the Longnight preparations. Her sapphire eyes tilted up toward him with a curious glance.
RexannA
nothing ever ends poetically.
all that blood was never once beautiful,
it was just red.

coding

Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

Absorbed in the methodical motions, he’d barely heard Rexanna call his name through the thicket. The ax was swung, over and over and over again, restlessly rearing through the wood, splintering knots and fracturing granules. It was satisfying; violence and upheaval without the blood and ichor, and he was content to breathe in accord with the irreverence, exhaling on a downward pulse, inhaling as arms and blade reached toward the sky. Only as he raised his arms again, did his calling echo and resound between the thorns and brush, and he was forced to cease the routine movement, head whipping aside to glance over his shoulder at a familiar friend.

He was slightly surprised to see her out here – he thought she might’ve kept herself to the settlement, amidst politics and scandals, brewing her way through secrets and furtive motions. The soldier arched his brow, grin crooked, nearly impish in its quality, as he lowered the ax, let the metallic end settle on the ground. “Rexanna,” he obliged with a nod, eyes tracing over her form to ensure there was nothing pressing, nothing harmed, nothing marred or wounded; making no inquiry as to her status in the woods.

Her own interest was garnished a moment later, and this time both brows were raised, before settling down into his nonchalant disposition. He’d never taken her for an individual that wanted to work with the rougher outlines of life; she was someone who burrowed her way into society, sunk her claws into its flesh, drowned out the treacheries with her own meticulous round of chaos. Perhaps he’d underestimated her, which seemed foolish and unwise of him, for he’d never done the same to an enemy (always assumed his head would be separated from his shoulders, and then worked toward not allowing that moment to occur). Why would he commit the action towards a friend?

There was a smaller hatchet resting on the sled too – he’d brought it just in case the longer bladed-ax wasn’t necessary. It’d sat there, still and silent, awaiting its turn, until his arm extended towards it, grabbed the handle, and proffered the weapon towards Rexanna. “If you wish. There are some smaller pieces to be used for kindling.” His fingers followed suit, pointing at a few thinner portions carved by his ax, intended for incensing a blaze to its fruition. He smiled, then began picking up some of the wood he’d already bludgeoned, turning over a stump nearby and using it as a fixture, placing pieces on top so that he would make them smaller, easier to handle and load onto the sled.


Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Rexanna
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#4
As Deimos said her name, she offered him a grin in response – bounding up to him like a small child would to their father. He gave her a quick look over to make sure she was okay, and for him she did the same. They were friends, after all. She had made a bargain with him on her first day here in Caido. She was bundled appropriately for once – furs bundled up against her neck and shoulders, and plenty of clothing to cover the rest of her body. Even her hair had been braided up and away from her back to keep it from getting in the way.

But Deimos didn’t speak at first. Instead, reaching toward a smaller hatchet and handing it to her. Grabbing it with her gloved hands, her sapphire gaze slipped up to meet his own blue gaze as he spoke. “Wonderful!” She chimed in her sultry voice, stepping over to begin working on the kindling. The hatchet was comfortable in her hands, and she found she could work it easily to break apart the smaller pieces into the kindling they’d both need to help spark the fires they’d certainly need for Longnight.

She worked quickly as she made the kindling into little bundles for easy transport, binding them together. In the meantime, while she bundled one and tied it together with a bit of pine she found and moved it toward the sled, she glanced to Deimos while he worked. “Have you learned anything interesting since arriving here?” She questioned him, that usual purr in her voice remaining as she dumped the kindling in the sled and moved back to make more from the slivers from the wood that Deimos had chopped.
RexannA
nothing ever ends poetically.
all that blood was never once beautiful,
it was just red.

coding

Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

For a cretin so meticulously detached and indifferent to the world around him, sometimes he gave himself away in small, minute actions. Comrades and companions were always a main concern, one of the few he afforded himself, often examining and scrutinizing finite details, movements, motions, to ensure they were still safe, still whole, still well. It was a habit innate and instinctual, crafted and created from the benevolence and compassion of his family, and sculpted, hardened by the brotherhood of soldiers. War and the aftermath had painstakingly carved its nuances and notions into his bones, into his methods, so even now, amidst the realms, the kingdoms, the sovereignty of strangers, he took the time to verify safety, to certify protection. Perhaps it was the only thing he was good for: raw power and domination, the intimidating blows and assaults, the depths of darkness coiled in his veins. The Reaper could be a blackguard, a villain, a vehement menace to anyone and everyone who threatened those he considered close; a brutal, barbaric figure to an enemy or adversary.

But Rexanna seemed fine; lifting the hatchet, drifting into her task with little difficulty. He nodded again, went back to raising his ax and felling another blow upon the solid wood, pummeling its way through knotted contortions that would eventually burn well, becoming embers and ash, thrown back into the cycle, beginning everything anew. The beast assumed they’d continue in their silence – it was comfortable, not overbearing or overwhelming, no secrets or furtive munitions shared. However, Rexanna’s voice, brambled by intrigue, caught him unawares, and he was forced to admit his defects and flaws right out in the open.

Social niceties and discourse had never been one of his main abilities. The wild, savage vehemence on a battlefield was more to his taste, where actions spoke far louder than words, where a weapon could sink and slide through an enemy’s chest, and nothing was exchanged but viciousness and annihilation. Warriors understood one another without a neat turn of phrase, without clustering in the background, listening to anything and everything; they fought for opposite sides, they partook in feral, arcane, ancient devices, and the strongest, the most cunning, left the dais of war alive. He’d adapted poorly again; had gone right back to his old habits of lingering in the shadows, seen but not heard, a quiet, unholy demon in the corner, ready to strike at a moment’s notice, but with few allies and even lesser knowledge. He hadn’t assimilated, but took to routine, eroding over and over again because it was safe, because it meant he didn’t have to step out of his comfortable rut. Reticence was easy. “Nothing I am certain you have not discovered for yourself,” he answered, a slight frown chiseling its way upon his face, perhaps the only sign that the notion bothered him, that he hadn’t managed to do much of anything in a world full of possibilities. He’d seen her in the same corners, reaching for his presence, and for a moment he thought he didn’t deserve her attention; slamming his next blow into the wood’s surface a little harder than intended. Rexanna had the ability to blend into any scenery, any surrounding, talk her way into pleasantries, into deviant exploits, into anything and everything; he could merely devastate and ruin. “Have you?” His piercing stare flickered to her briefly, and he didn’t like the dependence on her information, on her wisdom, for it made him feel utterly ridiculous and ashamed, stupid and inept – a blundering idiot in the forest. The soldier polished the final notion while grabbing hold of the last piece of lumber, detaching some strips left bare and frayed and tossing it onto the sled.



Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Rexanna
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#6
One thing she absolutely adored about Deimos, is that the man seemed completely unphased about the change in her voice. It was like he didn’t even notice, and she could make all the innuendos and be as flirtatious as ever with her voice toward him and the man wouldn’t even blink. It made life easier, almost like she hadn’t even changed her voice at all – and she could relax around him easily with it without having to explain. So she continued to work, creating the kindling they both would require, and moving to add the piles to the sled while he chopped away at the bigger pieces.

His voice cut across to her and she offered him a bright smile in response. It was true, he probably already knew all of the important things that she did – that they were stuck within this barrier and that there was a creature that guarded the spire. That it had killed someone. But he knew that too, she stood right beside him during the meeting. So what else had she learned? That you can interact with the gods here? Some of them were kind apparently and others vindictive? She huffed quietly under her breath while she worked, not entirely sure what to say at first.

I met the most beautiful god named Frey.” She offered a bit unhelpfully. Rolling her shoulders in a shrug as she moved to drop the kindling into the sled and continue to work on some more. “Other than that, just the same as you.” She added with a quiet huffed laugh, the gesture causing her breath to puff in front of her face. She worked on a bit more kindling before figuring that it was probably enough for them, and moved to put the hatchet back and help Deimos load the cut firewood.
RexannA
nothing ever ends poetically.
all that blood was never once beautiful,
it was just red.

coding

Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#7

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

Gods. The simple intonation of the deities made his lip curl. He’d had enough interaction with any celestial beings, or lack thereof, for a damned lifetime. In his childhood, he’d never been totally reverent, but had done as his mother or father asked, attending to shrines amidst Isilme when told, proffering artifacts when rituals demanded, adhering to those standard beliefs. Perhaps, over time, the gods simply came to ignore and abandon him, watched him from afar and knew he wasn’t worthy of their time, of their dedication, of their musings or wisdom. He’d slaughtered instead of dousing the world with piety. He’d run his sword through enemies instead of catering to a divine beast. He’d howled and roared in defiance against too many things, became wild, savage, a feral, predacious thing, gone and gone again. There’d only been one time thereafter when he asked them for anything, deep in the drowning fields, where one life was hastening to its end and he’d tried so desperately, so hard, to make them come, to make them see that she didn’t deserve to be vanquished. He’d fallen to his knees and begged, gave them everything he thought they’d desire, but in the end, it’d been for naught – and the silence had been a death seal, an omen, an ominous plunge into who he’d become all over again.

The Reaper hadn’t bothered administering anything but wicked, immoral, corrupt actions thereafter.

He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice, the rancor curling and coiling its way through his spine. “And what did the beautiful god do for you?” What had been the purpose? What had been the end result? Was it the very same here as Isilme – muted silence when they couldn’t get their way, when the most powerful of all couldn’t contort or control their minions? He carved his own fate now – and sometimes purposefully out of alignment from celestial wishes and ambitions, spiteful, resentful.

Deimos sighed, let the breath wash out into the forest, trying to ease back the frustrations boiling their way through his chest. Perhaps Rexanna was of the more reverent type; maybe she was deserving of their affection – it wasn’t her fault he’d been consigned to forlorn outskirts. His eyes focused on the sled, how full it’d become, and figured they could cease there for today. He could return later and refill it. “I can drag this to your home first.” Then he nodded, indicating she could go ahead and lead the way out of the pines.


Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Rexanna
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
Played by: Skylark Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,453 | Total: 13,495
MP: 0
#8
Back home in Halyven, there hadn’t been tangible gods like there were here. So the girl had no expectations when it came to gods and what they could do – but the curse was both a hinder and a good thing in her mind. Despite having the altered voice, Frey had still ended up removing her brand and teaching her a valuable life lesson. Yet she missed the bitterness in his voice, not even thinking that perhaps he might have had some bad experiences with tangible gods before. “Well, they removed my brand and slightly altered my voice.” She said easily with a quiet laugh following.

But as they turned back to the sled and noticed how full it had been, she wiped off her gloved hands on the sides of her outerwear and offered a bright smile to Deimos. “Thanks! I’m not too far away, just in the Settlement.” She replied with a beaming smile – fully having missed any distractions and brooding attempts Deimos had made. She moved over to the sled and helped to secure it, to be sure that none of it would fall out during the move. Then, with his direction, she lead the way out of the pines toward the Settlement.
RexannA
nothing ever ends poetically.
all that blood was never once beautiful,
it was just red.

coding



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