DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
A new eye.
How and when he’d lost it again didn’t bother the Sword; just the way everything had seemed to go about the asking. Payment in return. Obviously.
The monolith snorted, hands going back to stones, because the notion of swinging them back into the water were growing all the more. Calloused fingers gripped over one tightly, until he glanced over the shoreline and embankments, pondering how to best say no.
And when had that become so difficult for him? Not as the Reaper – who’d kept nearly everyone at bay with one god damned glance.
That he was exhausted from proffering and extending and offering until there was nothing in retribution? Until it was as if he owed them all the world? He ground his teeth together, a clench of his jaw, vision stuck to the pebbles at his feet while the fog billowed. “There are gems in the Climb.” Nate could journey there, pluck them out of the walls as the General had done before. “Then you would not owe anyone.”
Then he wouldn’t have to be pulled any further into whatever games this void was trying to play.
Eventually though, his gaze lifted back over to the water, and the image managing to reflect over the surface. A horse – but not like his favored companion – but something else entirely, born from the essence of the veneer with pale entities, black eyed and feral. And from being in this world for so long, the beast wasn’t even remotely surprised by the outcome. His features flattened, and another feral sigh whipped through. “What do you suppose that is?” Waiting, on the bizarre eventuality, that it would either hasten towards them, regard their existence as a threat, and start another dangerous multitude.
How and when he’d lost it again didn’t bother the Sword; just the way everything had seemed to go about the asking. Payment in return. Obviously.
The monolith snorted, hands going back to stones, because the notion of swinging them back into the water were growing all the more. Calloused fingers gripped over one tightly, until he glanced over the shoreline and embankments, pondering how to best say no.
And when had that become so difficult for him? Not as the Reaper – who’d kept nearly everyone at bay with one god damned glance.
That he was exhausted from proffering and extending and offering until there was nothing in retribution? Until it was as if he owed them all the world? He ground his teeth together, a clench of his jaw, vision stuck to the pebbles at his feet while the fog billowed. “There are gems in the Climb.” Nate could journey there, pluck them out of the walls as the General had done before. “Then you would not owe anyone.”
Then he wouldn’t have to be pulled any further into whatever games this void was trying to play.
Eventually though, his gaze lifted back over to the water, and the image managing to reflect over the surface. A horse – but not like his favored companion – but something else entirely, born from the essence of the veneer with pale entities, black eyed and feral. And from being in this world for so long, the beast wasn’t even remotely surprised by the outcome. His features flattened, and another feral sigh whipped through. “What do you suppose that is?” Waiting, on the bizarre eventuality, that it would either hasten towards them, regard their existence as a threat, and start another dangerous multitude.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
