DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
Depending on subject matters, it took a good amount of irritation to truly instigate the ire of the Sword. There were some easier ways to go about distorting his calm, composed existence, to unfurl, to unravel, to distort, but he hadn’t met many that wanted to. It could be a dangerous gamble, to push the pernicious layers, to rankle and rattle the chain on his contemptuous lacquer, on the nefarious qualities he kept so deftly immersed in bones and veins. But Nate hadn’t pressed any of these notions or motions, not like his counterpart (though they’d seemed to have settled on more truces – passing information from one to the other) or annoyed like the pretentious, once-Sage. So the process, the meeting, could continue on more easygoing nuances, at least for the General.
Deimos took the paper, the sketches, the outlines back when Nate had finished with his adjustments, snorting a little at the way flair seemed to be the only discernment. Décor and adornments, segments that must have held some suggestion, some meaning, for the Ascended, lost on the monolith. But he shrugged, tilting his head in perusal, in study once more, applying the lines to his mind, to his machinations. “It is feasible.” An arch to his brow flickered, followed, gaze motioning once more to the other man at the semblances of appreciation, a nod hastened, delivered, and thinking nothing more of it. No debts. No transactions; even if it was something he also tended towards – feeling the rush of burdens, of striving to alleviate places of transgressions. This was something he could do for another, and much like he’d always done, he went ahead with it.
But he didn’t have to stand before monsters today, guard the populace from some wayward strike, shield the world from some other onslaught of harm, or plot out a meticulous way to annihilate a foe. In some variation, it was a semblance of preservation, but only for one individual. Placing the paper back into his pockets, memorized, the beast lifted his hands, watched, waited, for them to become gilded, glowing, signs of the creation pulses beginning to churn. Between his palms, the item began to take form, shape, the jacket outline pooling and rounding, the fixed pieces of his request readily applied, honing, adjusting, in the deepening mires of his concentration. Thereafter, on the fringes of his own fiery incantations, he placed the necessary ramparts within – and when it was complete, extended the item to Nate. “Suitable?” On a rumble, on a long-lingering exhale, wiping the beads of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
--
Deimos has created:
Leather Jacket: A leather jacket that can reflect basic fire damage away from the wearer. Can be used again after a two post cool-off period.
Deimos took the paper, the sketches, the outlines back when Nate had finished with his adjustments, snorting a little at the way flair seemed to be the only discernment. Décor and adornments, segments that must have held some suggestion, some meaning, for the Ascended, lost on the monolith. But he shrugged, tilting his head in perusal, in study once more, applying the lines to his mind, to his machinations. “It is feasible.” An arch to his brow flickered, followed, gaze motioning once more to the other man at the semblances of appreciation, a nod hastened, delivered, and thinking nothing more of it. No debts. No transactions; even if it was something he also tended towards – feeling the rush of burdens, of striving to alleviate places of transgressions. This was something he could do for another, and much like he’d always done, he went ahead with it.
But he didn’t have to stand before monsters today, guard the populace from some wayward strike, shield the world from some other onslaught of harm, or plot out a meticulous way to annihilate a foe. In some variation, it was a semblance of preservation, but only for one individual. Placing the paper back into his pockets, memorized, the beast lifted his hands, watched, waited, for them to become gilded, glowing, signs of the creation pulses beginning to churn. Between his palms, the item began to take form, shape, the jacket outline pooling and rounding, the fixed pieces of his request readily applied, honing, adjusting, in the deepening mires of his concentration. Thereafter, on the fringes of his own fiery incantations, he placed the necessary ramparts within – and when it was complete, extended the item to Nate. “Suitable?” On a rumble, on a long-lingering exhale, wiping the beads of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
--
Deimos has created:
Leather Jacket: A leather jacket that can reflect basic fire damage away from the wearer. Can be used again after a two post cool-off period.
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
