home to your arms

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

For a moment she basks in the silence that wraps around them like candy floss, mentally brushing against her bond with Atlas like a touchstone. For all she stands to lose upon returning to Torchline, she is not without her loved ones here and now. Even with war cresting slowly on the horizon there will always be moments like these. Pockets of peace and camaraderie that will help see them through to the other side. This night well be enough to keep her going. To lend her strength as she prepares to return to Sunjata with her decision held close and burning hot in her heart, cauterizing out all doubt in the wake of pain. Then...well, then she will probably return here until she can find her own lodgings. Reopen the spa. Try to remember how to live alone.

But she's never truly alone, and isn't that the point? She has Deimos. Kiada, when the girl isn't enamored with her beau, and even with all the worries and connections to the Voice she may hold. Wessex, who she cares for but whose ties are coiled all the tighter. Hotaru has never had an ample amount of friends, but it hurts all the same to know that if The Voice is destroyed that she will be left with only the man whose arms are currently wrapped around her. For that she is somewhat grateful. Hotaru doesn't want to imagine the woman she would become in the wake of his loss.

His mischievous notions pull her free of the darkening nature of her thoughts, and like ripples his smile inspires her own before she can do more than gaze upon it. The ears that poke brilliantly through his dark tresses has a startled laugh escaping her in a sound more like a squeak, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth as her eyes crinkle with mirth. "I can't believe I've gone this long without seeing this!" Darting her hand to get her greedy fingertips on those soft, fur-lined edges, gently tracing the curved outline of one ear - reluctant to let go of his hand with her other. "You've never been more adorable," Hotaru croons, eyes alight with teasing sparks and smile wide and endeared. For someone so ruggedly handsome, the word would normally be ill-fitting, but it's a perfect descriptor for what she is seeing.

"What do you think I would be?" An idle thought spoken aloud, but not without its sincerity. What does he see in her soul? What primordial reflection does he believe she would have? "I've always envied the ability to speak to one another silently. I'm sure it has its uses." That bond that she had bitterly desired between Nate and Sunjata would hurt less if she could share it with Deimos, with anyone else she could venture across who would be like her.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

His thoughts had been dark and suffocating, consuming and destructive, for far too long. He didn’t let them shackle and tether now, not when they had some grips on the world again – somewhere to go, something to do rather than wallow. Make peace with the nature of alterations (a notion he often detested), with the bounty of what was left in the aftermath. The Sword could recover. The Valkyrie could hasten away the Flood. And there were pieces lodged in between, taking their bites of might, holding vengeance over those wronged, and preparing for the inevitable.

And for once, there were no aspects, no thoughts, of being alone.

He should’ve known better as her hand reached for the ears, rearing his head back and utilizing his height to his advantage, shoving her away and breaking apart the hold for rounds of laughter. She snagged hold of one and his cranium inevitably tilted, but the snort was embedded in there – and the alteration in his features from warm smiles to absolute offense. A very boyish, juvenile wrinkle to his nose surfaced, much like a pouting child, and he reeled back from the notions of adorable. “Disgusting.”

A tease for a taunt then, at her next inquiry, as he broke off the touches and fragments, beset into Cheshire endeavors now. “Maybe a shrew.” He folded his arms across his chest, seeming getting ready for need of protection and defense. “A weasel.” The grin grew into a smirk, all teeth and amusements. “A mosquito.” More quiet considerations followed and flickered, pondering over the thoughts and wiles, the notions of who Hotaru was. “They are within your soul, apparently.” He shrugged; considering the amount of massive predators embedded in his skin, the notions fit. “What do you think you would be?” He pointed one finger solely onto her forehead, holding her away, as if he might flick her on the skin, but laughed all the while. “You are cunning, bold, and powerful. What would fit?”

As for uses of silence? His smirk grew deeper. “Excellent for planning around enemies.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

He may be the equivalent of a giant compared to her, but seated they are on a far more equal level, and even the way he rears back will not dissuade her from those adorable fussy siren songs that sit atop his crown. Hotaru nearly falls from the chair as he shoves away, and her laughter is a bright shower of sparks as she tightens her legs and scrambles to stay perched at his hip, hands still deviously bound for his ears. They are as soft as they appear, and even the contortion of his face can't stop the gleeful grin that splits her own from surfacing. "Are you calling me a liar?" A challenging, teasing tone to her words that can't drown out the bright amusement that breaks through their earlier dark clouds.

Deimos is just as mischievous however, a trait few will ever believe if she tries to plead her case against him, and her mouth drops in an offended portrait as a squawk of objection leaves her. Each suggestion is worse than the last, and her hands move to pinch and tickle around his folded arms, a barrage of indignant motions. "You're insufferable! If I turn into a mosquito I'm going to bite you until you look like a pincushion!" Emphasizing the threat with a jab to his bicep, trying to feign a mortally wounded expression that the mirth in her eyes cannot work alongside.

Only once he relents - clearly unapologetic, but she will graciously allow it - does she cease her onslaught and give true consideration to the topic herself. As such she is distracted and his finger finds her forehead, pushing her backwards as she gives a strangled noise of dissent, brow furrowing and tongue peeking out childishly. "Your flattery is your only saving grace," she warns, snapping her teeth playfully at his finger. He is far too quick for her to slap it away and she knows it. "Perhaps a large cat of sorts? Or a wolf." Her heart aches, missing Alice once more, but that bond has been broken for many years now. "Or maybe a viper." Here her grin turns pointed, incisors on display with the turning of her lips. Poison would be a wonderful addition, though she wonders if her soul will ever lend her the useful quality of flight. Perhaps in time. "Clearly nothing so fuzzy and adorable as you." A precocious wink seals the repetition. He may be a mighty creature in his full form, but to her he is nothing more than a lapcat.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

“Yes,” he added, quickly and efficiently, rising from his chair with every intention of depositing her there on the floor; the grin turning far more Cheshire. It could’ve been a dangerous thing, but these were distractions and deterrents, away from their grief and melancholy, and he was permitted a moment to be ridiculous and asinine as the rest of the world. “I could just crush you,” and he shrugged – content with the thought of squishing an insect Hotaru, lifting up one forefinger and applying it to his thumb, held up in front of her head as if it were hers being mauled from a distance. But at least there was laughter, rounding out the edges of the angles and voids, piercing away and over the devastation.

He maneuvered away as she squawked, flailed backwards, listening as he motioned through the room and towards a series of cabinets. A snort ensued through the following chuckle, considering he’d never been known for his fawning, honeyed words, or sentiments; all of them were earned and worth the weight of his confidences, his beliefs. He produced a few glasses upon the massive war-table, and then went hunting for the latest stash of liquor while the Valkyrie occupied herself with possibilities.

Deimos rolled his eyes at the viper comment. “Like you require any more venom.” She named predators though – much the same as many of them; sticking to those wolfish, ravenous particulars, to the way they still stuck to their minds so many years, lives, away from Helovia and its reaches. The beast might’ve poured her a drink, save for the last comment – making a similar face from before, and distinctly putting the resin back in the cabinet.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

It's a near thing, and she scowls after him as soon as she regains her balance after he cruelly disrupts it. Revenge is sweet however, and so she steals his chair for herself now that he has so kindly vacated it. It's the small victories that count and Hotaru isn't above being petty. Only further proven when she flips him off, mirth pinched in the corners of her mouth as she watches him mime squishing her. "For that I'm putting burrs in your fur - or your hair - the next time I see you." In fact she will portal out of Halo just to collect the little bastards. Maybe keep them stockpiled in a jar for whenever Deimos feels like teasing her.

Hotaru watches him move as she curls her legs up into the chair she has stolen. Peace settles in a shroud over her for a moment, gossamer and ephemeral. There will always be moments like these. Happy moments. She knows that logically. All the same it makes her next breath shake on the exhale, grief and gratitude warring for territory in her heart. She feels at least a little lighter. There is still a yawning pit of void to deal with, but now she has the makings of a bridge with which to cross it. Deimos has always been a master of creation, it's no surprise.

Watching him deposit the glasses, the Valkyrie perks up in anticipation. While not one to drink in excess, or even often, she's no stranger to spirits and trusts Deimos to keep what passes as quality in Halo. Which is why she narrows her bi-toned eyes at him the moment her comment strikes and has his hand recoiling away without giving her her prize. "Apparently I do if you intend to push your luck so boldly." Even so her lips twitch, betraying her as always. There is little the man can do that she would not forgive, especially in jest. She twitches her fingers at him, sparks dancing across her knuckles in showy bursts of light, a silent demand and threat all in one. Maybe she can make his beard stand on end if she shocks him just right.

"Whatever I am to be, I have to convince Frey first." Dropping her fingers to trace idly at the seam of her leggings on the side of her calf, Hotaru drops her gaze to the glasses with a contemplative moue. "What did Safrin ask of you when she changed you?" It's not terribly hard to keep an open mind about the Goddess. It's not her that Hotaru blames for the mess she has been dragged into.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

For all the woman’s efforts, he’d long since been immune to the potential horrors riled between the pair. He handwaved her gesture and threats away, and if she made good on her ominous wiles there was some likelihood he could pierce them away with his earth incantations, shrugging while he poured the alcohol into his glass. “I have quite enough burrs in my life already.” A very smug snicker curled in the corners of his mouth, permitting her to fill in the gaps of who or what they could be. But the beast unfolded from his previous amusements, taking the other resin back from the clutches of its cabinet, and filling that one as well.

The beast made his way back across the parlor, indifferent towards his chair being stolen – there were always more – and he handed over the container before occupying the other seat before the fire. Belial had moved since then, slipping in along the corners, curious and wily, and dropped his head on the corners of Hotaru’s arm – curious eyes widened and blatantly staring at the woman. Deimos said nothing, waiting for surprise, shock, or anything else clambering forth.

His attentions went to the drink first, taking a few swallows as the question aired. He stretched his long limbs out, withholding some length of a sigh, before leaning back, eyes flickering away from the fire, and towards the mantle – fixating on memories. On moments that felt like lifetimes before. “She asked why I felt the need to grow stronger. Told me I needed to stop looking outside myself for it.” A shrug lifted through his shoulders; waiting for some inevitable statement from Hotaru about the same thing. “Then she offered me one chance and held me by throat in the sky.” He laughed though, because it sounded ridiculous and the fact that he’d gone and done it was another multitude of lost wits and trust instilled. “Dropped me.” Little visions of ghosts springing along beside him; wraiths and phantoms and loved ones. “And out of the need for survival, I was an eagle.” Only thereafter did his gaze swing back to her, amused and shaking his head, so the wild locks rounded along in accord, a half-snort muffled in the movements.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

Disregard only sharpens the edges of her smile, something oil-slick and proud shining like gloss on her lips. "I hope I'm one of them," she teases, all too aware of how she exasperates him at times. Far more reckless and impassioned at times than he, two matching but contrasting forces on the throne. Ironic then that they are both hurt by the world around them despite their different guards and defenses. Still bruised and battered even with their attempts to take on fate with such opposing tactics. It speaks of the unfairness of the world, but also of the inevitable similarities between them. Too selfless, too caring, despite how everyone perceives them as hardened and dismissive.

Taking the filled glass from him, she immediately brings it to her lips, chasing away any of those lingering shadowed thoughts in favor of the burn of liquor down her throat. Distracted, she luckily has already swallowed by the time Belial appears at her side, and the woman gives a choked sort of noise of surprise as she nearly flings her glass at the poor thing instinctively in honed instincts of self-defense. Heart rabbiting, she cuts a quick glare at Deimos - somehow this is his fault, she doesn't care if it doesn't make sense - before her expression softens and she offers her hand for scenting to the adorable creature. "Well hello there," she croons softly, smile already dawning. "Are you his newest soul-mate? Aren't you beautiful!" Already a better conversational partner than Deimos clearly. Offering the gentle rub of her fingertips into fur if Belial does not back away, Hotaru turns her attention back towards Deimos as she hears him shift and stretch.

The story sobers her, and she frowns contemplatively as his voice dwindles to silence. "She reminds me of the Moon Goddess from home. I thought I would follow her admittedly when I first arrived here." Always a fan of those powerful feminine wiles, the narcissism and selfishness, manipulation and diversion from the shadows. Until she had met Frey of course, and realized how perfectly they fit as Hotaru's personal patron. "But now you are close to her for it?" Wondering now how endeared he was to her, if he intended to try and come closer into her starlit gravity the way she intends to try with Frey. He certainly doesn't seem to hold the moment against Safrin.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

An eye roll, a sidelong glance one might grant and give a sibling, exuded from his otherwise piercing gaze. “Of course you are,” and whether or not that was a compliment or something else entirely – he laughed, trying so desperately to slip away from all those other edges. Clawing to the surface, striving to rise above the clamoring ilk and ills and everything surrounding, yearning, threatening to consume; an ease in his shoulders as he leaned further back into the chair – bemused, rather than sickened with his own grief.

He didn’t hide the ruffian, smug smile when Belial’s appearance caused another surprise; the small deer insinuating further into the mischief with his own burrowing into the chair’s arm. The peryton took the offered scratches with ease, content, leaning in for more while Zuriel watched from her spot beside the hearth. Deimos took another drink, considering and conspiring in his silence, before prospering information. “Belial.” A name, a symbol. “I only found him because I heard a scream.” Ru would be able to surmise why he’d be the sort to follow such a notion – presuming danger and treachery. “It had been the ningo he’d mauled.” He snorted: carnivorous deer hadn’t been something he’d ever witnessed until this pointed venture – but given the way this world works, it wasn’t a surprise.

More conversation on gods, on Safrin though, peeled away the mischievous grins, and leant, bent, into his quieter deliberations. They unfolded and unfurled into the past, into the rough machinations of goddesses before, and why he’d always been so wary, so apprehensive. “I feel indebted, in a way,” and he shrugged his shoulders. “We had our gods in Helovia, but we could avoid them, for the most part.” Especially considering his nonchalance and indifference towards the God of Time. “In Caido they seem inevitable. And Safrin was the first one to listen to me at all.” And perhaps that was how she snagged – his eyes flickering back to Ru. “Still enamored with Frey then?”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

Despite the convoluted meaning behind his assurance, Hotaru visibly preens all the same, amusement pooling in the crinkled corners of her eyes. There is no regret to be had over antagonizing and exasperating the man. Shrinking his problems to focus instead on her current nonsense of the hours is a form of distraction she is proud to partake in. Were he not so amusing a target perhaps she would be less inclined, but she does it for the attention just as equally as for his reactions. For the retaliation and prodding of the mischief that lurks behind corners in his labyrinthine soul, urging it forward into the light where she may bask in it.

Any semblance of a reply dies in Belial's wake. Surprise aside, Hotaru has always been taken with companions and creatures alike, and as such is immediately sucked into focusing on the soft fur and whorls of pattern in Belial's short hairlike fur. Happily indulging in the deerlike creature's desire for pampering as Deimos gives the details of their union. "I'm sure the ningo deserved it," Hotaru laughs as she strokes the peryton's cheek adoringly, both directly praising Belial for his bloodthirsty mannerisms and aligning herself with Deimos in their shared distaste for the prey-birds.

Her petting slows but does not cease as the conversation turns back to Gods and their ilk. While she'd certainly managed to avoid the God of Time despite governing the Basin, she can't quite agree as to the ease of ignoring them. Then again she'd been a disciple of the Moon Goddess as young as she could recall. Evasion was not so easy when she'd already been so enamored. "I respect her for what she stands for," Hotaru agrees easily, though she has never met Safrin face to face. The one God she has, well. A grin tilts across petal lips. "Oh, yes. They are...everything. Nature, procreation, the elements around us. Sex, pleasure, self-indulgence in a grander sense. I didn't stand a chance really." Laughter bubbles free at the self-recrimination, but shameless all the same. Frey - and by extension Rae - is a perfect harmonic chord to Hotaru's soul. It's as simple as that. "They're quite easy-going as well. Not nearly so hung up on the war, on Ascended. I can't say I'm not grateful for that. Safrin seems far more invested as Vi's herald." Even the God's name makes her insides twitch, tied intrinsically now to her perception of Amalia.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

The Sword was comfortable in these distinctions of distractions and deterrents; a way to ward off the searing fringes and frayed ends for another day, another time, another hour. Perhaps it was suppression, and only diminishing it for now meant later it would be a Colossus, threatening and imposing. Perhaps these were just the makings of another venue towards growth and recovery, to not labor and drown, to not wander and wallow, to not partake in becoming just a massive beast with sorrow stamped all over his soul. He’d always tried to be more than that. Everything else seemed to clatter and crash, rattle and shake, until he couldn’t remember what it’d been like before some disaster, some devastation, some ruin. It was picking things up all over again.

His eyes went to Belial, at the way the deer seemed quite content – eyes closed, leaning into the scratches. Hotaru indulged and the peryton was pampered in his distinct wake; Deimos snorting at the insinuation. “They always do,” incapable of sharing in Chulane’s niche for farming and caring of the potent creatures – the General and his companions were far more indulgent in controlling the population through sheer force, ferocity, vehemence, and derisive practice.

Were it up to the monolith, they might have steered away from the discussion of deities. But there they wandered, a singular arch of his brow as the Valkyrie continued to proclaim her affinity for Frey – either nature or procreation – and he snorted in the wake of her wild grin. “Maybe the war does not matter to them.” There would always be life and death, with nature within the balance – catering to both, instilling new lives, fortifying creatures, and then permitting the rest of it to be tended by the ministrations of others.

He gave himself credit for not flinching at the notion of Vi, and the segment of the god’s ties to Amalia. Instead, he lowered his head and stared at the floor, toying with the glass in between his fingers, before lifting it to swallow more of the liquid down, down, down. “Do you think in the end, everyone will become involved anyway?” That there was no hiding to be done – no presence, no entity, incapable of being reached in the volleys for supremacy? No matter how hard some had tried, like Sunjata, bargaining and bartering for something that couldn't be helped?

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

There is a hypnotic comfort that falls over her as her hands rub and circle over the fine bone structure beneath Belial's fur. As rhythmic as stroking a lazy lapcat. It's like an adrenaline crash, or a hangover. In the wake of all the emotion they've both shared - bearing and trading burdens - Hotaru is tired. She can't say this is home. She isn't sure if that even exists right now, or if it's something she'll have to content herself with never having again. But at least she is safe; in a familiar place, with the man she loves and trusts most in the world at her side, Atlas watching over her. It's enough.

"No, I don't think it does. It makes sense - they'd be far more invested in collateral damage. Life will always continue on, even if all humans and their Ascended ilk were eradicated." Life in different forms perhaps, but still the sort that Frey would preside over. It's a relief in a way. Frey may not want Hotaru to be their chosen one, may even reject Attuning her, but at least she's confident in the certainty that the choice would not be so difficult to make as others who follow Safrin or Ludo. As such, it spirals easily into answering Deimos' next question, subdued though it may be.

"I think...those with power of any sort will not be able to escape having to make a choice." They'd talked about the inevitable accumulation of power the longer one lived in Caido. The growing levels of importance that falls upon those individuals. "Everyone else, they may be spared that fate. Maybe they'll be able to hunker down and ride out the storm. But even if the Gods do not make pawns of them, the people who lead each side will try." That is the inevitable nature of war. Had they not done the same in their ruling years? Tried to sway, ally, strengthen their brute numbers? Now it will merely be The Order against Wessex and her family. A race to secure more minds, if not more bodies. Even procuring a vow to stay away from the other side is a worthy enough endeavor to try and indoctrinate and convince bystanders. "But us? We're not going to be able to avoid it." Even Hotaru's dedication to Frey will not save her from involvement.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

There was exhaustion to be had and shared – not brought upon by physical torrents, the polish and maneuvering of muscles, or the exuberance of a hard day’s work – but the emotional tolls. The push and pull of carrying things they shouldn’t have had to, the weight of the world embedded and embossed, the distinct clarity of anguish, of hearts disassembled and learning to repair again. But the Sword would always offer a safe threshold for those he cherished, for the burrs in his side, regardless – shelter and sanctuaries, sanctums and nets, for those just as lost as he was. And maybe altogether they’d figure it out.

Worn and fatigued, the monolith only nodded at the assertion. Life would go on – Frey and Rae would have their counterparts – and more would rise from the ashes of impending assaults and sieges. He swallowed the remains of his drink and placed the glass down on the floor, listening, tilting his head, falling into the silence of his considerations. Those that would hide, survive, in their own ways. Those that would flock. Those that would group, instigate, and gather. And the monolith knew where he would fall, well before Hotaru mentioned it – because he’d been in and amongst war since he was very young, and it was a part of him. A vehement ichor that couldn’t be ceased. Couldn’t be stopped. Experience and intellect in the brimming nuances of hatred and abhorrence, of goals and aspirations only shared, only nettled, only thorned. “I do not think I have ever been able to,” and he laughed, a mocking one, ensnared and enticed for eternities and lifetimes in the temptation of bloodshed. For causes and concerns. When it simply couldn’t be dealt with any other way.

But in the meantime? Weren’t there other motions and notions to try? Salvage? Pick apart?

He didn’t know.

So he steered it away from his ignorance. “Do you want to stay here?” Until she figured out what she was doing? “We have rooms in the barracks,” and his jaw jutted in the direction of the halls, but could only imagine they didn’t fit in with her ideals. “Or I have a spare in my apartment.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Darling please, just give us some time, and I swear we'll be alright

That sanctum is precisely what allows her to relax, to face the bundled nerves and jagged wounds that have previously been afforded only a blind eye. He does not need to take that weight from her in order for her to heal, merely ensure with his presence that she feels secure enough to face her own demons alone.

Belial is certainly helpful in that regard at least, tilting into her hands with an eager benediction. Hotaru is certainly not going to complain, she is delightfully weak for any manner of animals and creatures. Merely another tie to her infatuation with Frey. A shame then, that Deimos is so intrinsically tied to Safrin. That she knows he will have even less of a choice than the one encouraged by his personal motives and need to protect and defend. It makes his hollow, resigned answer all the more impactful when she hears it. "I wish you had," she says softly. "That you could have had the choice both then and now." Hotaru will never stop wanting better for the Sword, who deserves it so much more than any other she has met. "But until then, you know I'll be at your back." Armed and ready, covering his blindspot. Wherever he ventures, whatever ordeals he may face as Safrin's follower, he will not face it alone.

The offer is unexpected - at least in the sense that the topic arises from seemingly nowhere. "Didn't we just have a conversation about you giving too much?" Wry amusement twists her lips, fingertips rubbing at the base of Belial's antlers. "But if the offer is open, I'd stay with you." At least until she can figure out her own lodgings. Whether that means building an addition onto the spa or fixing something up closer to the city, she isn't sure. It will be lonelier that way, yes, but Hotaru knows she'll still see Deimos frequently even if that comes to pass.

HOTARU

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

The piercing angle of his gaze segmented into the crackling fire for a moment, lost a little in the potential of more ruin. The drums of war beat against his skull more often than not; slid down into the annals of his mind in dreams, recalled and remembered for their brutality, for their wrath, for their contempt, as swords swung and clashed, as everything fell to pieces. On her softer echoes, his stare flickered, and then fell to the floor, to hearths and quiet. Battle had always been the easiest option; peace and liberation all the more difficult for the political sways, for the ties of hissing adversaries and fickle, mercurial voids. Skirmishes and duels swept the tides in various directions, presented ultimatums, warnings, and omens that hadn’t been respected, that they’d meant what they’d said with every fiber of their beings.

That when one peeled him away, layer by layer, he’d always been destruction and demolition. Underneath the loss, the hurt, the shame, were the nefarious regions of his bones and veins, of his savage tissue and muscle, where the sinew pervaded and presided in pernicious persuasion. Where he’d been taught from an early age how to howl and bellow and then silently lacerate each and every void.

And for all its horrors and terrors, he was still drawn to the vehemence and violence. It was a part of him as much as the mischief, as much as the sea, as much as the mountains. His smile was slower, half-inclined into nothingness, a shrug of his shoulders; but he knew what she meant. “Likewise.” At one another’s backs; defensive, obliterating beasts and fathoms.

At her acceptance and chiding though, his eyes widened, and the juvenile smirk caught along his mouth once more. “I did not think this one counted.” Space for a refuge, for opportunities of collection and repose, weren’t so difficult to obtain. He’d just known and understood she’d want a safer void, after the one she’d just departed. “Starting now then.” Starting now he’d stop granting and giving until he’d emptied out his heart and soul, and watched it all dissipate into nothing.

Then he rose from his chair, both Zuriel and Belial (despite the scratches and pats) taking the sign of movement and motion as an opportunity to rampage towards the apartments. Mentally he was done in for the day; the guards would be finishing up by now anyway, and there was not much more to be completed that couldn’t wait until the morning. “I can show you,” and without waiting, he picked up his glass and crossed over parlors and beyond war tables.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same