who we are and all that we're trying to be
Perhaps it was lucky for Aino, and the rest of his constituents, that Deimos didn’t ever press too hard in spars. Enough for challenges, for thoughts, for processes, for reels upon reels of techniques, machinations, calculations, where the practice could dissolve and resound into one’s head – and then no more. What would be the point? To unwind and unfurl until another was demoralized? Until they no longer yearned or craved the knowledge? No; the monolith, General or not, granted clemency in these maneuvers and motions. This was not a real battle. No one was being tormented. A test, a weight, a balance, where an individual could reflect. These moments were the ones that built into campaigns and crusades.
Once she was driven towards the floor, might and might and might infused and nowhere else to go, he relented. The beast backed up and away, and he could hear the flurry of whispers, then the sound of feet maneuvering: their attention dissipated and gone for another set of circumstances. His eyes went to hers, the reticent arch of his brow giving away nothing, and then the nod of his head. “Good.” His blade went to one hand then, and then his belt, giving her space as he wound his hair back. “Again, or have you had enough?” The glint of a challenge invoked, and the slightest of grins.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
