DEIMOS
Then shouldn’t that have told Sah something? That enough people also couldn’t defend her actions? His eyes went to the ground, and a long, low sigh filtered from his chest, pluming in the scattering of wind and snow. Deimos once had an outsider’s perspective too – utterly indifferent, apathetic, but then lands were torn apart and people were mauled, and his loved ones fought hard to survive. Even he’d been cast down, in all his strength and might, within the last sicknesses’ brutality. And that did not seem to matter here. Sah was determined, and the Sword had said all he could.
Maybe it was a learning curve, and they’d all been shoved into it so quickly, so swiftly, that the others couldn’t quite fathom the stretch of merciless, ruthless condemnation. Maybe it was foolishness. Maybe it was a rite to foil his ignorance away, but at too much of a cost.
He didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t march away. He continued to pull the sled along, carcasses barely moved from the smooth conditions, and striving to keep himself from not rumbling, hissing, finagling those frustrations out into the open air. Neutral and calm, composed and reticent, ever a tucked-away blade, his piercing gaze finally went back to Sah – saw the pain, the agony, and wondered why this always seemed to happen. “You are your own person. You do not need my permission.” Mentor and friend he might’ve been, but Deimos couldn’t make Sah’s decisions for him. “I am just trying to warn you as best I can. I have seen too many people hurt and killed because of her actions.” A pause, scanning over Sah’s posture and form again, before moving on. “I hope your choice is worth it.”
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
