DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
He snorted in return, but studied the modulations and alterations in mood, in tone, much more than that distinct noise. Deimos had never known Ru to be purposeless, meandering, wandering, along a rambling cord. Driven, sometimes to ridiculous heights and notions, but nonetheless potent and ruthless when the ambition was caught in her teeth. The quiet, almost listless, acceptance of the present, along with the drifting loneliness, caused his brows to furrow, for that distinct, inaudible accord to flatten along his eyes, narrowing them to nearly-defiant slits. The all is well blended and bent, and even if he didn’t like it, even if this seemed just as foreign as the days they’d first landed in Caido, it wasn’t his to refute. If you are sure was the most he could grant and give – even if some measures were already taking hold in his mind. But trying to right a languid beat only mattered, only held meaning, if the one it was for craved the accord.
Rising from his crouch, the rock remained in his palm, rolling through his calloused fingers as he drummed it back and forth. “Let me know if he should be thrown in.” Because bullying friends had never been above his means to an end.
The other suggestions took him faintly by surprise, but maybe the Valkyrie had been catching on to her own impending danger – if the Sword was left to become restless for far too long. “Sure,” beginning to ply away at any loose debris with air incantations, watching as the particles were swept out and around. “I need you to attack a scale with lightning later, when you have a moment,” said with a nefarious grin and zero explanation.
Rising from his crouch, the rock remained in his palm, rolling through his calloused fingers as he drummed it back and forth. “Let me know if he should be thrown in.” Because bullying friends had never been above his means to an end.
The other suggestions took him faintly by surprise, but maybe the Valkyrie had been catching on to her own impending danger – if the Sword was left to become restless for far too long. “Sure,” beginning to ply away at any loose debris with air incantations, watching as the particles were swept out and around. “I need you to attack a scale with lightning later, when you have a moment,” said with a nefarious grin and zero explanation.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
