DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Nothing. No inquiring about her state. No questions about how she was fairing. It caused the General’s eyes to narrow, a dangerous effect, locking his jaw into place, sealing a sort of vehemence that had nowhere to go. His eyes went to the bubbles surfacing, breaking along the veneer, and instead of mentioning it, went about his own investigations, skipping another stone across the water, and watching as the pattern work seemed to follow the wayward rock.
Maybe Nate didn’t care. Maybe there were too many other things. Other notions. Other fabrications. Other weights.
He tried to not have the presumptions stick to his mind, but they curled and coiled just the same, especially along the tilt of his head as the Ascended asked for something else. “Depends on what it is.” Neither a yes or a no; and he wasn’t inclined to make a decision based on current circumstances. There was also the semblance in the back of his mind, tired, so god damn tired, of giving himself away freely, as if the world expected it. Naught in return but the scrapings of some other infernal hatred and distaste.
That there was no formal announcement surrounding LongNight left him suspicious, and to the point where he was now a coiled, taut, unyielding monolith on the embankments; waiting for some other eventuality to arrive on the heels of disaster and mayhem.
Maybe Nate didn’t care. Maybe there were too many other things. Other notions. Other fabrications. Other weights.
He tried to not have the presumptions stick to his mind, but they curled and coiled just the same, especially along the tilt of his head as the Ascended asked for something else. “Depends on what it is.” Neither a yes or a no; and he wasn’t inclined to make a decision based on current circumstances. There was also the semblance in the back of his mind, tired, so god damn tired, of giving himself away freely, as if the world expected it. Naught in return but the scrapings of some other infernal hatred and distaste.
That there was no formal announcement surrounding LongNight left him suspicious, and to the point where he was now a coiled, taut, unyielding monolith on the embankments; waiting for some other eventuality to arrive on the heels of disaster and mayhem.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
