DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Stepping away from the piles of documents, he too leaned against the desk, arms folded across his chest, awaiting the re-established Warden’s assessment. There were other inquiries, restless and igniting, behind his teeth, but he bided his time, head bowed to listen. Chaotic sounded much in the way of the preparations Wessex had detailed to him – messy, disorderly, and fragmented at best. It hadn’t given him much hope beyond faith in his own brethren to make it out of the disastrous overtures. That they’d had ample time and done little to utilize it had been another cause for concern, not to mention the multitudes of armaments the Queen of the Grounds hadn’t decided upon. For while Wessex had always been potent, always been powerful, her endeavors towards her own left a lot to be desired. He put none of the blame on her subjects, who'd likely been along for the unfortunate ride. “It did not sound thought out when the Wraith came to obtain weapons.” A feeling of last minute deliberations, of asking him for advice without the adequate nuance, and then the smoldering condemnation, the seething emotions, the rancor, when everything else erupted and boiled over. He’d stood in her tirades and storms, unimpressed and all the more stunned by the lack of parameters and particulars. To put it mildly; as though she were tossing her own kin to the slaughter.
Not fighters. Not skilled in the array of devastation.
Then what had they been doing?
The Sword shook his head, snorted at the prospect of Morgan being there merely to sacrifice herself for the Ascended factions. “Did they all survive?” He didn’t give names, but the notion was there – Kiada, Elide, Bastien, Azrael, Adam, Peter; names and faces of those he considered friends and family, even if time had and deaths had set them apart. Were the monsters defeated? Or was it all for naught?
Her next comment had him glancing her way, a brow arched, the lightest of smirks embedded. “Apparently I was needed elsewhere.” Joking measure aside; he hadn’t been asked or told to go. The intentions had once been there to complete Kiada’s quest, to fight what she hadn’t been able to defeat, but without the lantern, and with the Harpy’s resurrection there’d been no need. He’d stayed and held down the mountain world.
Then he sighed, piercing gaze slipping back upon the walls, on the door, on the windows of the office he’d no longer have to occupy. “I apologize for my anger before.” Justified and deserved, perhaps, but it’d been on a string of overwhelming multitudes, and he’d succumbed very quickly to the apprehension.
Not fighters. Not skilled in the array of devastation.
Then what had they been doing?
The Sword shook his head, snorted at the prospect of Morgan being there merely to sacrifice herself for the Ascended factions. “Did they all survive?” He didn’t give names, but the notion was there – Kiada, Elide, Bastien, Azrael, Adam, Peter; names and faces of those he considered friends and family, even if time had and deaths had set them apart. Were the monsters defeated? Or was it all for naught?
Her next comment had him glancing her way, a brow arched, the lightest of smirks embedded. “Apparently I was needed elsewhere.” Joking measure aside; he hadn’t been asked or told to go. The intentions had once been there to complete Kiada’s quest, to fight what she hadn’t been able to defeat, but without the lantern, and with the Harpy’s resurrection there’d been no need. He’d stayed and held down the mountain world.
Then he sighed, piercing gaze slipping back upon the walls, on the door, on the windows of the office he’d no longer have to occupy. “I apologize for my anger before.” Justified and deserved, perhaps, but it’d been on a string of overwhelming multitudes, and he’d succumbed very quickly to the apprehension.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
