[Seasonal Event] summer in the sun, winter in the shade

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos had mixed feelings about children. When he was one, amidst his crowd of fellow mischief-makers and rabble rousers, he’d been endlessly amused and diverted. But as he grew into a soldier, a warrior, he paid less and less attention to them, except for the idle few that dared approach his bulky, brawny figure. Those were often scared off if his gaze even inched toward them. Then throughout his war campaigns and crusades, amidst the endless death, promised, eternal glory, vehement victories and devastating defeats, and hollow losses, they hadn’t been around. Upon their return to their homes, to their territories, children, and people overall, had been scarce; the world had fizzled and died away, decayed, withered away at the seams. So he wasn’t entirely sure how to react when the infantile voice, no matter how loud and booming it tried, reached his ears. He swung his head back and met blue eyes, a daring, incredulous sort of gaze sometimes worn solely by kids and their bold, brazen, audacious platitudes – he’d done the same in devilish contortions, a blistering, emblazoned beast of a boy laughing and swinging his fake sword towards imagined enemies. Other than an arch of his brow, the Reaper’s features remained indifferent and nonchalant, a molded reticence meant to repel others away; it usually worked on those grown, bored of him immediately or terrified by his presence alone. He wasn’t sure if it was effective on the younger broods, but he was willing to give it a shot. “Cleaning,” was the only answer the boy would receive, cold and without any inflection, before the beast went back to tending to the clinking glass, shoving the last of its particles against the wall, looking for something to use when picking it up, then discarding. He thought about his gloves, resting unused on the table in his house, and considered chastising himself for not thinking of bringing them. master of nothing place of recoil and grace

Roana