[se] keep aiming

Deimos

Spring meant an unfurling, an uncoiling, of his rapacious, restless ends – a flight on sienna wings and noble fringes, taking flight over the boundaries of mountains and summits, curtailing into purposeful diversions and bemusements. These particulars had started with a letter from seas and surf, and with no reason to argue against it, the beast had taken to scattering, to swift abandon.

Before long the token familiarity of Torchline pressed into his senses – the salt in the air, the varnishing of waves rolling against the sand – but something stark hastened upon his feathers, caused him to take a few more revolutions above the Court of the Stars. For it was a chill, an element he associated with his home; not here, not in the midst of the tropical, listless opulence. Talons clutched at his bag of holding a little longer than necessary, before he landed, shifted, into Sword and monolith.

Bizarre.

Eyes narrowed, inspecting the notions around him, and noting anything he found suspicious, he shifted his satchel over his shoulder and hastened into the building, asking to see Maeve. Perhaps something had occurred over LongNight – a different semblance of alterations and change.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

Maeve

Deimos's arrival trumped everything else on the queen's docket for the day. He was left waiting only moments before she appeared, offering him a smile and a dip of her head, "Hopefully the journey wasn't too difficult for you." The queen said as a form of greeting, motioning for him to follow her out into the garden, having set up a space for them by the fountain to work. Settling at the small sitting table and pouring them both a cup of tea, the Nightshade waits for him to sit and get comfortable before she begins to speak.

"Safrin asked me to seek your help out on something. I'm in need of a bow." He already knew this from the letters, but Maeve wasn't above reminding him just why he was here in case it had slipped his mind. "I have one that I love dearly, but it was made by Remi and she isn't overly fond of that fact."

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need

Deimos

He’d barely had any opportunity to segment his gaze upon the Court and its halls before the Queen made her appearance. Piercing eyes settled upon Maeve, and a nod of respect followed, though the inclination of his brow arched, resolutely, infinitely curious. “Not at all,” used to flying for long periods of time. It had the alteration of the climate itself that left him wondering. “Though I did not expect Torchline to maintain Deepfrost’s hold.” Perhaps she’d have an explanation for it – the uncertainty and inquiry notched in there, recognizable even without the depiction and alteration in his voice.

Striding forward, he followed her out into the garden, a warrior’s instinctual stare flicking back and forth over portions and partitions, pedestals and arrangements, until they came to the fountain, and then the table itself. Quietly pulling out a chair, he nodded at the explanation; for he’d read it all in the letter – it was why he’d been summoned here at all. “I am aware.” The other summation, especially the notions about Remi, were left to nothing – not prying into the dramatics. Instead, his machinations pinpointed directly to the task at hand, presuming, perhaps, that Maeve was not one who wanted a plain, unadorned bow. “Do you have any requests for its appearance?”

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

Maeve

"It is odd for this time of year." Maeve agrees softly, lips pursing in thought for a moment as they take a seat and Maeve prepares them their tea. "We're not sure what's causing it, but I have plans to ask Safrin. Hopefully it's nothing to be concerned about." The Nightshade didn't want to add something else to the already overflowing plate that she's currently balancing.

Only after the general has been served does Maeve pull out the bow Remi made for her originally. It's a delicate looking thing. A recurve bow made out of Ash wood, stained with a rich gray, vines carved into the wood and spiraling around the weapon. There are dark feathers hanging from the end, Manticore feathers stained with ash, catching the slight breeze. "I want it to look like this, but I want Safrin's constellations carved into the bow, too." Maeve explains, passing him the bow so he might examine it. "I'm right handed, but left eye dominant."

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need

Deimos

Odd felt like an understatement, and a slew of machinations and calculations rambled through his head. Perhaps it would be best to do exactly as Maeve had planned already – merely asking the favored herald – instead of his normal, and immediate, pondering. His brows furrowed slightly as he took a sip of the tea, relishing a breath or two, before extending his notions forward. “I trust it is not something you want to last long.” Not in Torchline; wondering how it might affect the expanse of the sea-laden world.

Then there was the nature of the bow itself; his gaze instantly going to the one contorted and created by Remi. It seemed a shame that it wouldn’t be afforded its own accord, or that his whittling required the upcoming portions into nearly the exact same copy. Given the once-Alchemist’s propensity for creation well before Deimos had mastered his own, he took a moment to study it, regard it, for its care and precision.

Thereafter, he gave a quick nod in response, and began his meticulous incantations. Gilded contortions rippled immediately in between his palms as he spread them apart, permitting the long arch of the weapon to appear, followed by notched, nestled proportions, just as she’d requested. Ashen wood, honed and painted in gray, vines curling, coiling, carving deep into the timber, and then Safrin’s constellations marked and embossed into the work; galaxies and footholds, stars upon stars upon stars, where no mere mortal could touch.

When it was finished, he unfurled another long sigh, before passing it over to Maeve for inspection. “Will this suffice?”

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

Maeve

"No... It'll affect things here more than I think people realize." Fishing, crops, the ability to sail. All of it hangs in a delicate balance. The extended period of cold will make life difficult for the Torchers if it goes on too long.

Part of her felt guilty for not allowing him to create something that was uniquely his own style that would fit her desires, but she hoped that he understood the significance of this. Even if he didn't, the general didn't argue with her, simply taking in what she said and setting to work. Maeve watches in quiet awe as the bow grows between his hands from seemingly nothing. Her breath catching as it finally fully materializes.

It was mere moments before it was in her hands and she stood, setting aside her tea to feel the new weapon in her palm instead, testing the weight of it. It was identical to her other. The weight and curve no different, yet it felt foreign in her grasp, but the Nightshade pushed that aside. Instead she gives him a grateful smile and a nod in return. "It's perfect. Thank you, Deimos."

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need

Deimos

Time would tell, and that could be a risky endeavor. Halo knew the repercussions of an eternal winter, and though Torchline wasn’t near those peaks and summits, the notions of ruined crops, ships stuck at port, and fish no longer being hauled in could stop the sovereignty in its tracks. So he nodded, tilting his head in thought, eyes going out towards the sea. “Let me know if you find out more, and if you need help with fixing anything.” Uncertain what could be done, truly, until they had more information - though this wasn't his home, Torchline had done more than its fair share to ensure his survival.

While she tested the bow, he leaned back in his seat, observing, waiting, taking another sip of his tea during the inspection. When it appeared to have passed muster, he nodded, the task rendered and complete. “You are welcome.” Safrin’s designations done and finished, his brow arched. “Do you require anything else?”

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

Maeve

With a nod, the Nightshade sets the bow back into the case and offers him another smile, "I'll be sure to do so. As always, please let me know if Halo needs anything. Give Noah my best." She finishes off her tea, unwilling to let it cool more than it already has. "I'll see if Safrin has any information on why this is happening. If it's more than just the weather acting oddly." Surely the goddess would have more insight than either of them.

Finally standing once more, moving to guide him back the way he came, the Nightshade shook her head. "No, that was it. Ronin is responsible for the next portion of this task." One that she wasn't looking forward to in the slightest. With that said, she leaves him to wander back out into the streets once more before retiring to her work.

~FIN~

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need