DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Any other time the image of Sah potentially falling down the side of a mountain, or run over by a sled, might’ve given him a full range of laughter. Unfortunately, they were now deep into philosophical musings, spurred on by himself and he could only blame his curiosity, eyes flickering upwards every so often to track and trail Belial’s movements. Zuriel clambered along, hooves marching steadily through the snow, near the side of the sled.
The Sword hadn’t considered the Ascended as victims of oppression before. Mostly because what he'd seen and experienced were their actions; not all of them, for certain – Samuel, eternally kind if not a little misplaced in his morality, Rexanna, with her noble heart, striving to break away from Zariah’s chains (whom he desperately missed, especially now, in the midst of all these natures clambering and seething in their incoming maelstroms). Bastien, with an artist’s flourish and rendition, once content to oblige him with ways to make lives better. Wessex was an outlier of brutality, power, and condemnation, and seemed to be the monster at the end of the rope; the line constantly extended, further and further. They were all individuals, much like any Old God follower. Much like any other neutral body. “Which is why I have no misgivings towards the Ascended themselves. It has always been the Voice, and her actions.” He nodded in agreement and accord; they were all separate beings – but this goddess had tethered her people.
His gaze narrowed briefly, over the tundra, over the way of the world, at Sah’s question. Alterations and changes; he hadn't considered those actions in such a method – forced to bow. It made his jaw clench and something else snap in the back of his mind. “Apparently. Though I presumed it was so we could not see what she was doing.” There only to provide aid to his friend.
The other statements rounded over, of warmth and guidance, of things he certainly hadn’t felt in her presence. A coldness had settled into his veins then, prompting a taut spine and ramrod shoulders, even while his skull had been forced downward. The oddity of the flickering nuances left him perplexed as well; uncertain what it was all meant to signify. “Maybe they simply wanted you to experience being in her presence.” That it might alter minds. He shook his head, incapable of understanding it either. His piercing stare meandered back over to the Abandoned at the final question though. “My best friend was Ascended. Her daughter is now. I have had many companions that follow the Voice; but I cannot think of any that would tell me to go directly to her.” Especially given who he was. “Perhaps they believed it would help pull you to her way of thinking.” Otherwise, he couldn't be sure just what they'd been contemplating or aiming at.
The Sword hadn’t considered the Ascended as victims of oppression before. Mostly because what he'd seen and experienced were their actions; not all of them, for certain – Samuel, eternally kind if not a little misplaced in his morality, Rexanna, with her noble heart, striving to break away from Zariah’s chains (whom he desperately missed, especially now, in the midst of all these natures clambering and seething in their incoming maelstroms). Bastien, with an artist’s flourish and rendition, once content to oblige him with ways to make lives better. Wessex was an outlier of brutality, power, and condemnation, and seemed to be the monster at the end of the rope; the line constantly extended, further and further. They were all individuals, much like any Old God follower. Much like any other neutral body. “Which is why I have no misgivings towards the Ascended themselves. It has always been the Voice, and her actions.” He nodded in agreement and accord; they were all separate beings – but this goddess had tethered her people.
His gaze narrowed briefly, over the tundra, over the way of the world, at Sah’s question. Alterations and changes; he hadn't considered those actions in such a method – forced to bow. It made his jaw clench and something else snap in the back of his mind. “Apparently. Though I presumed it was so we could not see what she was doing.” There only to provide aid to his friend.
The other statements rounded over, of warmth and guidance, of things he certainly hadn’t felt in her presence. A coldness had settled into his veins then, prompting a taut spine and ramrod shoulders, even while his skull had been forced downward. The oddity of the flickering nuances left him perplexed as well; uncertain what it was all meant to signify. “Maybe they simply wanted you to experience being in her presence.” That it might alter minds. He shook his head, incapable of understanding it either. His piercing stare meandered back over to the Abandoned at the final question though. “My best friend was Ascended. Her daughter is now. I have had many companions that follow the Voice; but I cannot think of any that would tell me to go directly to her.” Especially given who he was. “Perhaps they believed it would help pull you to her way of thinking.” Otherwise, he couldn't be sure just what they'd been contemplating or aiming at.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
