wound relentlessly

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He detected an almost near mocking grace in her bow, and his eyes narrowed dangerously for a fraction of a second, before realizing perhaps he should be taunted and teased for his endless ignorance. Perhaps there will be a day when he’s not bewildered or stunned by the manifestations in this world – but then again, maybe that notion is a farce too, because then he will have stopped, ceased, learning altogether. The scholarly contortions nettled and barbed in the aspects of his warrior frame refused to compromise on the matter. Even if he was irritated, the sentiments were distorted and stored away the instant the deer companion came bursting toward him, more series and volleys of movement, motion, and noise; a reflection of youth and joviality despite the rest of the earth’s caustic expanse. The Reaper’s response towards animals always varied: some were strictly for hunting, and he didn’t allow his mind, his soul, to be occupied with their emotions or feelings. Others were bonded companions, and therefore strictly off-limits when it came to food or supplies. There had been a few in his old home, some anointed and consecrated with small dragons that landed on shoulders, proffering bloodshed and ruin with their snap of their ivory fangs, some graced with tiny foxes or potent hellhounds. He’d treated them with a healthy respect, and when their owners weren’t looking, several well-earned pats and treats tucked somewhere in his deep pockets. But this one was different, a bit more sacred as it came rambling into his leg, butting his head into muscle and brawn – and the confirmation was noted with the faintest, slightest glow within the growth of its incoming antlers. “Luxere?” His brow arched again, equally impressed she’d managed to acquire one, and then took the opportunity to scrape away his awe, and gently, with obvious control and precision, stroked and scratched his ears. She didn’t have to know that there was little chance he’d ever have this opportunity again – the darkness flowed through him too deeply, too openly, a gaping, devouring, swallowing malice he turned to without hesitation. The fact that this fawn even bothered to come near him was a surprise, and in the warrior’s constant calculations and nuances, he snatched the occasion and moments when it was offered. The ease in her shrug though, as he continued to graze the luxere’s ears, moving to the top of its head, confirmed her gifts had been an innate favor, there since her first breath, the beat of blood pulsing through her veins. It was interesting, however, to hear that it had altered and changed upon a shift in worlds. His deadly incantations were still there, resting beneath the surface of his skin, eager and fervent, ready to be called at a moment’s notice, at the unholy singsong rituals of the battlefield, at the frigid, unwinding chill of his ferocious, contemptuous rage and wrath. “Interesting,” he murmured, for it was, and he had to ponder why hers had turned into something else, when his was firmly in place, a part of him the same why it’d been in his childhood. “Mine did not adjust upon arriving here.” It was a glimmer of information and then nothing else; a peace offering on tenuous grounds. Introductions took place though, as he glanced back and forth from Kiada to Auni, and it seemed his was to be next. “I am Deimos.” master of nothing place of recoil and grace

Kiada