DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Perhaps it was wise for Deimos to not yet have taken a sip of the tea – as Mildew leaned in and promised a secret (for which he kept many), he couldn’t hold back the cheeky grin or the round of laughter. “You do not look past three hundred.” Juvenile at best, for he probably had never met anyone around such an age, unless they were deities, the boyish shrug catered to the notions of more speculations pressing their insistence in his mind. “Were you involved in the last war?” His voice grew carefully neutral, not quite solemn, but curious, trying to perceive what the circumstances and events had been before. Scouring for relics, or holding those cherished items already, the originals formed at the behest of immortal beings?The Sword eventually swallowed down a bit of the liquid, not giving the notions of savoring an adversary’s death the deep rumble of his voice. There’d been many times where he’d stood over an enemy’s lifeless body and felt the keen, predacious glint of contentment, of knowing it was one less individual preying upon those he protected. These weren’t quite the same circumstances. “There have been some thoughts about it,” and his brows furrowed, head tilting, surveying the tea again, as if some secret would come flickering out of its depths. “But without the Voice, they would no longer function.”
Ways made his brow arch back up again, the deep contemplation resonating. “I suppose…” though this time was infinitely more guarded and suspicious, waiting for some underlying threat to come crawling out. “And how would you do that?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
