DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Steadfast and stalwart, even in the rise of her smile, the monolith peeled away another snort – but listened to her plans. She had the makings of her enterprise due to unfold and unfurl, and some of it was amazing, to think lives before all they’d done was plot and scheme, devastate and savage, ruin and beckon for the world to dare and meet them head-on. Now there were discussions of gardens and hazes of steam, waterfalls and bridges, parameters to meet one another, humidity upon an earth known for its isolation and dry air. Aspects of their characters that would’ve have survived, or sufficed, in Helovia. “We are working towards making a greenhouse, with the assistance of Frey.” The nature aspect of the being, of course, but he added it to the list of soon to be noteworthy additions to Halo. “Your plans will likely be appreciated.” If she’d already appealed to the reach of his constituents – the clientele would keep seeking out her services. The Valkyrie would be busy at least – even in the midst of broken, labored hearts. Unfortunately, it was how he coped too – sending all the emotions downward in a primordial expression of nothingness, until it grew too much and choked, suffocated, bound over the nature of his existence.
But that was why he was here – trying, striving, to improve. To be better. To be more than a hollowed out husk of a shell. To be more than a weapon. A vessel for demolition and destruction, no matter how much the realm still seemed to call for it; and how quickly he responded in kind to its siren wails and prominent echoes.
Hotaru could reach, but only so far. Behind the wall of muck, he laughed again, a tease, a taunt, a provocation, a challenge. He wouldn’t put it past her to do exactly as she said, and with a roll of his eyes, he lowered it slightly – though he’d long since escaped her reach, safely some space away. “What next then?” The Sword’s efforts to remain still hadn’t lasted very long, and while he’d sat within its warmth, and stood in its threshold now, the notion of stranding himself for hours in here sounded like eternities to a restless heathen.
But that was why he was here – trying, striving, to improve. To be better. To be more than a hollowed out husk of a shell. To be more than a weapon. A vessel for demolition and destruction, no matter how much the realm still seemed to call for it; and how quickly he responded in kind to its siren wails and prominent echoes.
Hotaru could reach, but only so far. Behind the wall of muck, he laughed again, a tease, a taunt, a provocation, a challenge. He wouldn’t put it past her to do exactly as she said, and with a roll of his eyes, he lowered it slightly – though he’d long since escaped her reach, safely some space away. “What next then?” The Sword’s efforts to remain still hadn’t lasted very long, and while he’d sat within its warmth, and stood in its threshold now, the notion of stranding himself for hours in here sounded like eternities to a restless heathen.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
