DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
He knew portions of what Safrin told – but only the angles Morgan had provided. Not willing to make a choice, striving for true neutrality, until even spirits began to detest. That, ultimately, he had been used so that the Glacier could linger on with Neron, in the Grounds, protecting and shielding, rather than tend to her land. A pawn, moved across the board. He permitted that to sink into his bones, into his mind, for a moment, the harshness, the sudden rage, leaping into his veins. He struggled to temper it, to form it into brewing barbs in the depths of his ribcage, to utilize and surmise for another day.
But in the end, his voice still bore a growl, a rumble, deep and low in his chest. “So they are together.” The Sword’s eyes met the herald’s for confirmation. That Morgan would willingly throw portions and pieces away for a man who’d once nearly torn that icy world apart.
And in his silent fury, the calculations began to contort, rapidly churning over and over in his mind, pressing them together like a blade, serrated and knife-edged. “If I cannot sway her,” because now he had far more doubts and suspicions than before, “Would you object to another follower of the Old Gods taking her place?” An option, an alternative, he hadn’t considered before the anger began to fill him.
Which was why he blinked rapidly again, perplexed, brows furrowing for a moment, at Safrin’s next inquiry, at the smug demeanor. He hadn’t been expecting anything at all. No rings; the last one he’d received had been made on vows that didn’t last. “A pendant.”
But in the end, his voice still bore a growl, a rumble, deep and low in his chest. “So they are together.” The Sword’s eyes met the herald’s for confirmation. That Morgan would willingly throw portions and pieces away for a man who’d once nearly torn that icy world apart.
And in his silent fury, the calculations began to contort, rapidly churning over and over in his mind, pressing them together like a blade, serrated and knife-edged. “If I cannot sway her,” because now he had far more doubts and suspicions than before, “Would you object to another follower of the Old Gods taking her place?” An option, an alternative, he hadn’t considered before the anger began to fill him.
Which was why he blinked rapidly again, perplexed, brows furrowing for a moment, at Safrin’s next inquiry, at the smug demeanor. He hadn’t been expecting anything at all. No rings; the last one he’d received had been made on vows that didn’t last. “A pendant.”
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
