[Training] know how to resurrect

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

A pattern, a ritual – rise in the morning, train while the darkness still shrouded and the sun had not yet pressed into the horizon, strike out towards the Council Halls to commit to hours of paperwork, settling disputes, and pacing the floorboards, orchestrating plans and machinations across sheets of paper whenever he truly settled. Disembark from the void when the winter marked its place on the hours, the moon shining high, and return home to train once more. Clockwork, manifestations of a routine he’d unfortunately had to alter time and time again, but it left him with something more than raising hackles and seeking out restless endeavors. No howling into the night. No persecuting doldrums. Just winding away, keeping himself collected, busy –

So when the thoughts began to immerse, he could push them aside for something else.

It was the second iteration of his practice now, and there were a few fellow guards scattered amongst the stony grounds. Most of them were chatting, hovering by the braziers, hands ghosting over embers, warming back up for another round. But the Sword had opted out, narrowing his eyes, and striking towards the newly re-painted and re-forged targets. It was tempting to fall back into the inherent, natural practicality of the blade at his hilt, but he hadn’t been utilizing the bow as of late; ranged tactics worked just as well. For other circumstances, for other means.

He had a mild chuckle at the state of one of the bullseyes – it hadn’t fared well in their drunken attempts, but it would do the trick, lines swayed as they were. He pulled it towards a section of the stone floor, ensuring no one else was within range while he gathered the rest of the materials and necessities.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

“You got time for more pointers?” She calls out to him, arriving in a breeze that slips past the guards that warm their hands – the Harpy no longer relying on furs or warmth from flame to keep her from shivering in the night. No, the only reason she truly shivered now was more mentally than anything. She’s dressed in training leathers, no furs to be found, a bow slung around her shoulder with a quiver she’d picked up, fixed the both of them (the bow had a bad string that she got for quite a good deal in the market), and she’d ended up here.

Of course she knows that he’s here – where else would he be? He was the type to stick to the plans he’s made, the routines – she’s familiar with that. Routines to keep things running smoothly mentally, because even if everything else fell apart, it was the one thing you could control. And so, she controls it this time – invading his time with her presence, positive that he wouldn’t dare complain about it.

So for now, she slides up in front of another target, not the one that he diligently works on, and she begins to stretch out her arms and torso, sure that it didn’t matter but it was habit at the end of the day that made it easier for her to dive into it. A routine.

An arrow is pulled, nocked, and she takes into account the advice he had given her last time and lets her eyes guide her shot. And then she lets go, hoping to see the arrow thud deep into the dummy.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

More movement, more motion; collecting the weapons, and placing the quiver along his shoulder, so it rested firmly against muscles and spine. The bow settled along the callouses of his hands, his palms, and he paced backwards, considered his distance away from the target, when the Harpy rushed in.

Only his eyes glanced her way, the rest of his body designated for the art and shape of calamity, registering her existence, her presence, with a slight nod. He could hear her question, but took his time in answering it, in processing the inevitable, in breathing in, out, slow inhales, long exhales. A shake of the apprehension, to quell, to smooth away the threatening, piercing notches of his impassive veneer; because he knew, he understood why she was here. To garner that minimal stretch of time she had left, to strive and better herself before the inevitable rushed her away.

So he persisted too, in his Machiavellian endeavors, in the amount of schemes and ruses that ran rampant in his machinating mind. “Once you tell me about LongNight.” He’d leave that open. Not how he knew. Not revealing his source. Not weighing in on the shadows, on the demons, on the monsters set to puncture once more.

Then, silently, quietly, he notched his own arrow, sliding it along the strings, pulling the strand back until it was taut, rigid, waiting, waiting, waiting. His eyes aimed, segmented for the lopsided bullseye, that ran slightly to the right, where the lines blurred, where senses honed in on precision. One more breath, and he released.

The arrow flew, segmented, and though he’d been rusty in its armaments, it sung true – landing near the inner circle, with a fierce thwack.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

Ah, so it’s like that then. The question has her freezing briefly after she sends the arrow out, huffing out a sigh that’s completely unnecessary – her unblinking gaze staring at the arrow that thuds to the side of the target and nowhere near the center. At least she’d hit the target. “Evidently we all have to participate.” She says with a hiss of frustration, watching his arrow fly out and land in the target with much more practiced, accurate movements.

She grabs another arrow and nocks it into place, shifting her weight a bit to send another arrow out into the night, watching as it flies across the icy ground with speed and a small amount more accuracy, managing to make it on the furthest ring of the target before she lowers the bow and nibbles at her bottom lip. “I don’t want to go.” She admits quietly, perhaps a bit sadly. “Wessex can just… Send things to us, I guess. It was quite a shock when I received her message. Like the attuned bond but not, obviously, seeing as she isn’t here.” Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug and she finally manages to look at Deimos with an almost defeated look.

Was that enough? She didn’t want to go to the Grounds for LongNight. She’d only just come back to life. Hadn’t that dark week held more than enough heartache for her? It had nearly taken away everything she cared about, had doomed her every year regardless of where she was.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Silent, silent, silent; hushed, nearly motionless decibels as he stood, not yet retrieving his arrow from its marked canvas. He listened to her hiss. To her admittance. To the sadness and sorrow tinging, tinting, through the balance of stone and armaments. To Wessex’s abilities, showcased in her clear absence, but powering through the world anyway. Another hallmark and display of the Wraith. It was enough to bite into his frustrations, yearning to tear into the world, and being utterly incapable of doing so. Stuck, right here, marked Warden while Morgan assisted, while the Harpy prepared for another damned onslaught he couldn’t help her with.

A sickening, lurching feeling pressed in on his ribcage, and he stifled down the bile rising through his throat, driving clarity, nuances, into his bones. And before he could offer anything to her in response, his eyes caught her motions, the way she flickered and bound herself to the bow. “Straighter stance. Hips directly over your feet.” He echoed the command in his own movements, once he’d grabbed hold of his weapon and returned – following through, squaring himself, before taking hold of the bow once more, notching the arrow, and staring directly at the target. Where he wanted it to land. To spurn.

To pretend it was a monster, a demon, something striving to take her away again.

This wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last.

A low rumble of his tones eventually caught hold in the further midst and anarchy, below the drone of the others gathered around the fire. “I do not want you to go.” Just so he was clear – blue eyes darting away as his arrow volleyed, as it ricocheted through the air and segmented slightly to the left of the other. A lack of concentration, perhaps – but it would’ve pierced a vital organ regardless. “But we do not have that choice.” An acceptance of the inevitable, even if they despised it, even if they detested it. “Do you have anything else to aid you?” Upgrades? Assorted weapons? He knew about the embedded armor; she’d shown him that in a mixture of pride and something else he couldn’t pinpoint.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

The answer is received – albeit not well - but she takes the assistance granted, straightening her posture, pulling the bow back so her back nearly bends the opposite way with how straight her posture has become, taking a quick glance down to figure out where her feet are, and readjusting where needed as she watches his arrow fly through the air and thwack against the target though perhaps not in the space Deimos wishes it to be.

She’s onto her third arrow now, unable to shoot it just yet as she listens to the tones of his voice, her jaw clenching slightly as she nods in agreement. But she doesn’t think she gets a choice, after all. It is happening and she is going. There isn’t any choice in the matter, just a simple hello, welcome back from the dead, let’s go kill some LongNight monsters. One of the last things she wants to do.

If she had her choice she’d simply remain here with Chulane and Deimos and never go out and battle again.

She follows the advice given, letting her arrow fly, watches as it reaches an inner circle – the ability to not need to breathe helping immensely in her aim, keeping everything even as could be. “I have the armor and a speed upgrade.” She says, lowering her bow and casting a glance toward Deimos with a small raise of her brow. “And the throwing knives you gave me.” She murmurs softly, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Acceptance of the inevitable was sometimes a harsh notion to take – and he had to swallow a multitude of rancorous convictions threatening to brim and burst over. His anger wouldn’t have done any good, wouldn’t have maneuvered things along, wouldn’t have countered with anything other than her tempestuous edges either. And that wasn’t how he wanted them to eventually part – irritated and annoyed, vexed and irate, neither one capable of changing these tides. He could bristle all he craved; but it wouldn’t go any further than the steel trap of his ribs, the nefarious void of his heart.

He watched her stance alter, the arrow fly, landing in a better position along the target. The Sword nodded, scraping over other particulars. “Relax your bow shoulder, and do not straighten out your arm entirely. There should be a slight bend.” Another demonstration followed, where his body took hold of the anthems and reciprocated their efforts, something comforting, distracting, in applying the efforts. As if the midst, the thought, of battle could do something more.

Deimos notched again, pulled back the strand, breathed, pulsed, presided in his illustrious haze, and then released. His eyes must have not been on the target enough – distracted – and the armament veered off right below the first. He narrowed his eyes, but continued not to let the frustration exude. Wouldn’t be worth it. Just needed more practice. More precision. More, more, more.

Kiada’s answers were enough to deter for a moment, though he still didn’t press his focus on her, merely going to retrieve his arrow. “You are free to take anything from the armory. And if you have need of something I can make -,” a shrug to follow, the offer there; as it always was.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

He gives her more pointers and she follows through, readjusting her aim and relaxing her shoulder – keeping her posture straight and giving her elbow a slight bend. Her attention remains on him, however, the information that follows of upgrades and things she has, unsure what she’ll need. The crossbow hadn’t seemed to work well last time, and any time she’d shifted, tar had covered her wings and made her incapable of flying. Perhaps… Perhaps Chulane’s shifts would come in handy, the moose at her disposal. Otherwise, she doesn’t know what else she could bring.

At least, her and Chulane haven’t talked much about her biting others. She imagines given the terrible event that approaches, it would be something to talk about. So she mulls it over, as she tries to focus on the target, watching his arrow fly as she follows it up with her own and watches it land a bit closer. A breathy sigh leaves her in content as she gets used to this newfound strength in the sweet spot of where to pull the bow back, how to let the string slip from her fingers with control.

“Last time… The flying creatures were the worst. We’d made it most of the way, thanks to the lantern and Auni… But we couldn’t do much against the flying ones. I’m not sure what would be best to fight against it.” There’s another huff of a sigh as she goes to retrieve her arrows and take her stance again. “I’m afraid of it. Of fire. It reminds me…” She shakes her head, never looking at him, her voice small.

Fire reminded her of her wings burning. Fire reminded her of her descent. Fire reminded her of death.

Kaos had been right all along when she’d seen herself die ablaze all those worlds ago.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

Further contemplations stilled him, but only briefly, as he followed the same pattern and ritual as before, snagging his arrows, returning to the stance and foothold. By now, his muscles seemed to retain, remember, the pieces and portions of the armament, arm drawing back, a brief undulation of movement, before his fingers flexed, and released. This time his eye had been tracking, hadn’t warranted for imminent distractions, hadn’t glanced her way until this was a finalized motion. He was rewarded with near-perfect precision – the penetrating, piercing motion amplified over the painted target, segmented in the middle.

Then he loosened the residual marks, and permitted his stare back upon her, a breath loosened, no longer so taut and rigid. She appeared to have gained the hang of it, based on her success, and he didn’t waste her time with another firm set of directions and lectures; opting for discussion over weapons and possibilities instead.

He had a hundred things to say about her previous quest. About asking Ludo to complete it for her. About how it couldn’t have been done – not without Jigano’s damned lantern, likely off wherever the condescending Sage happened to be.

The flying creatures being the worst recalled another memory; but far more brief, and less bestial, than her experiences. The monolith’s eyes narrowed in regard, the Machiavellian regard flickering behind their blue convictions, churning, spinning, contorting over other efforts. And her fear of fire. He had no need to ask of that one further. “We have some options then.” In her justified particulars – the rumble of his tones still not echoing or bounding off the stones – safe and secure, between them. “I can make you something with ice.” Which could possibly cease advantage of anything mobile, in the air, if directed appropriately. “Or something to resist fire.” He’d done something similar for Nate – and his inklings towards preferred oblivion was likely heralding in flames.

But they were known weaknesses of both Ascended and monster.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

She follows through with more of the posturing and the bend of her elbow, trying to recover after her quiet admission – her fear of fire now, and for good reason. Not only was it harmful to Ascended, the first warning bell in her mind, but it reminds her so much of her death that she can’t… Seem to get past it. It haunted her, the fire in the fireplace, the fire in the stove when they went to cook. Around every corner here, a fire constantly going in every room, a constant reminder, a constant sorrow.

So she draws her bowstring back again, taut and tight, letting it fly out to hit the target again, unblinking and not breathing, watching as it hits well again and allowing herself the ability to relish in that at least. The tones of his voice reach her again, as she moves to draw another arrow into her bow, considering the options that are laid out.

Ice and fire, how fitting for her. She pauses as she considers the options a bit longer, lips pursing slightly. She had the armor, that part might help in a pinch. “Do you… Remember we had Amulets in Helovia?” She asks, casting her glance toward him curiously. The Kaos amulet had given her the scar on her neck, but there were many others that were far more useful. “Something similar to that maybe?”

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

The monolith could remember a time where Kiada represented fire. Flames along her spine, intermingled with emotions, the bristling accord of munitions and malice, promise and prowess. Elements of her preference, of her temperament, of her character; bewildering, smoldering designs of capability after capability –

And then she succumbed to them.

Whether it was irony, coincidental, or mere misfortune, he didn’t comment. He didn’t ask. He didn’t linger in the multitudes of harsh finality. But it had coiled against him, there, as he drew back the bowstring again, permitted the arrow to fly, fly, fly, whisk away in the breadth of winter air and rock walls. None of them were the same any longer. And perhaps that she was here, living, was enough.

The weapon resounded near its brethren, cold and calculated, and he stepped back again, resumed a less formidable stance, head inclining in her direction. “Yes.” Amulets aplenty, found nearly everywhere, in one measure or another, he could've had some semblance of a hoard, a collection – they’d had similar bouts when Remi had created and contorted some. “I can make one to store and use magic, but only once.” A fierce, ferocious, abrupt demonstration of his power – in whatever way she yearned to utilize and compose. “Which do you want?” The range was vast; from water to flames to creation to life drain, to the flow and flicker of air and earth.

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

She still bears those scars. Still bears the licking fire up her spine, the marred flesh that would never leave. But in place of it, in place of the armor that wounded her time and time again, she’s gotten something smooth, that extended along her skin, that was still a part of her. It was… Kind, all things considered. An easy shielding mechanism that didn’t cause her pain, that didn’t remind her of the things that had tried to kill her or succeeded.

She pauses as she goes to withdraw another arrow, allowing time to think over the answer she plans to give to Deimos. And once it has come to mind, all she can think of is the Kaos amulet. It draws her attention back toward the Sword when he speaks, offering a soft nod. “The one use would be great.” She offers, breathing a bit of a sigh of relief, hoping that it simply breaks rather than explodes.

She takes her stance again, sending the arrow out into the dummy, watching as it shears the feathered end of one of the arrows in its puncture. “If you don’t mind.” She tacks on at the end, casting a glance back toward Deimos.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA

remember that you can't save everyone

remember that you have to try

The Sword didn’t notch another arrow, tucking the bow beside his long legs, angling it so it rested against furs, while she contemplated, while he waited. More keen observations followed, but she’d seemed to have adhered to the advice already given, and the motions were suitable for now. Whether or not they’d take hold within the darkest of nights was something else entirely – never quite certain what was out there, save for death and destruction, demolition and disaster.

He would’ve volunteered to take her place, had it been permitted.

But instead, they faced the same challenges as before, with far more at stake than Ru’in’s soul. “You know I do not,” came across on a rumble, brow furrowing, something bothering him in the back of his mind. Maybe it was the constant giving, and none of it mattering. That this was the only thing he could do. He had no other name for it.

His jaw clenched, and he said no more. Instead, his concentration curled and coiled, hands inches apart, coming to segment before his chest, as the creation magic intermingled in his veins, called to the forefront. Eager and obliging, the gilded armaments cast their glow across his palms as they always had, a sheen of incantations and enchantments fusing together, others compelled to join on strands of complexity and deliverance. Between the calloused fingers and the weight of worlds, an orb began to form, plain and unassuming, no need for ornamentation and adornments when it wouldn’t be made to last. Eventually, its pale ivory emblem conceded in his hands, a string tied to one end, for her to wear beneath layers, for her to call upon when situation required it.

Only then did his gaze segment back to her, across the void of stones and columns. “What magic do you want within?”

out for vengeance

DEIMOS

i am afraid that if i open myself

i will not stop pouring

She does know that he doesn’t mind, but she feels better asking anyway. Already, she feels a bit like a burden, brought back to a completely different life, a different change, where those around her had to change how they spoke to her, had to change how they did things with her because she wasn’t the same. But it’s a feeling she tries to stifle down again and again, never wishing to air in the open. Never wanting to give it a fraction of light in her thoughts.

So instead, she lowers her bow and steps over to collect her arrows, fitting them back into the quiver, and returning to Deimos by the time that he’s crafted the amulet from a glimmering orb between his hands. Eventually, as she watches, she notices the ivory amulet paired with a string to attach it around her neck, her mind flickering over the idea of what it could be filled with. Many things come to mind, but it isn’t until Deimos is asking that it becomes harder.

She doesn’t meet his face, her eyes focused on the amulet as she considers. Fire, she wants to say, knowing that it was beneficial to attempting to harm the monsters. And yet? “Ice.” Falls from her lips in a breathless whisper. Something that could hopefully still damage without actually causing pain to her or those around her. She had to come home this time.

She has to.

why do i fear becoming a river?

what mountain gave me such shame?

KIADA