DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
The unicorn, more than spoiled for her constant efforts of putting the Sword, and his constituents, back together again, seemed entirely miffed at the lack of treats. Though the world didn’t revolve around her, she was in the belief that it very well could – and took on a very, eerily reticent stare at the girl. Belial was more than satisfied at the scratches, and leaned, tilting his head further into the pets.
As for the Eirachi debacle, the prelude and its subsequent ventures, he hadn’t been here for, but certainly heard enough about. The fact that Neron was still permitted to walk around, without some semblance of banishment or exile, was still a little bizarre to him, but he shrugged his shoulders, went along with the notions. “I was not. Apparently there were some deals unfulfilled.” Tampering with deities, seasonal or otherwise, had its own fair share of potential drawbacks; maligning one, as Neron had done, ensured greater casualties and calamities. “No, nor the cultists involved.” He’d asked around last year, poking and prodding for information about lingering threats – beyond the normal rounds of surprises, monsters, and any other manipulations in between, only the cannibals seemed to remain with some distinction.
She returned to her sculpture making, and the man arched a brow. Considering how often he created things for others, he rarely did so for amusements or himself, and paused in the notions for a moment. Thereafter, he did the same as he’d done before, controlling, contorting, the granules of snow, but permitting them to rise along as miniature formations of mountains. Not the ones beyond, but of the Aurora Basin, summits always pressed into the back of his mind; memories that called for home.
As for the Eirachi debacle, the prelude and its subsequent ventures, he hadn’t been here for, but certainly heard enough about. The fact that Neron was still permitted to walk around, without some semblance of banishment or exile, was still a little bizarre to him, but he shrugged his shoulders, went along with the notions. “I was not. Apparently there were some deals unfulfilled.” Tampering with deities, seasonal or otherwise, had its own fair share of potential drawbacks; maligning one, as Neron had done, ensured greater casualties and calamities. “No, nor the cultists involved.” He’d asked around last year, poking and prodding for information about lingering threats – beyond the normal rounds of surprises, monsters, and any other manipulations in between, only the cannibals seemed to remain with some distinction.
She returned to her sculpture making, and the man arched a brow. Considering how often he created things for others, he rarely did so for amusements or himself, and paused in the notions for a moment. Thereafter, he did the same as he’d done before, controlling, contorting, the granules of snow, but permitting them to rise along as miniature formations of mountains. Not the ones beyond, but of the Aurora Basin, summits always pressed into the back of his mind; memories that called for home.
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
