remember that you can't save everyone
remember that you have to try
Deimos’ oeuvres could’ve come from the creations managed by his hands, by his magic, by his incantations. But the real masterpieces came from the conviction in his movements; the sword a deadly, nefarious brushstroke, clear and defined in its serrated outlines. Time and time again he’d felled an enemy, the coldness stark in his blood, reeling onto the next, cutting through wakes and devastation with his own silent brutality. It was as easy to direct and manage as the enchantments in his ichor; an extension of precision and might, a favorite thing to savor when he was at a loss.The blade cut and slashed, until he stepped away, surveying the damage done to the target. Deep rivulets and newly-formed grooves pierced over the effigy, and he gave a quiet chuckle, somewhat bemused. Only at the sound of movement nearby did his piercing eyes immediately pinpoint the onlooker – not willing to admit he’d been absorbed in his task, he hadn’t noticed Cordelia observing – shifting from the predacious outline to one of familiarity, a snort breezing through.
He didn’t answer at first; mostly to tease. Drawing out the quiet gave him an opportunity to return his weapon back along his belt, and retrieve two wooden, training pieces from a collection of armaments he’d been assembling. Appearing as if he was contemplating the notions, he rolled back his sleeves, tilting his head towards Cordelia. “I could.” Deimos couldn’t recall refusing to train anyone in the parameters and particulars that they sought – providing his wisdom and experience wherever he could. But he’d known the Halovian to be a master of the bow; perhaps she was looking for something in case of close-range sieges. “Have you used one before?” He offered one of the training molds to her, waiting, already studying and scrutinizing.
out for vengeance
DEIMOS
