Deimos
The Sword wouldn’t say he’d never falter – the absolute in a segment alone called and caused error – but he strived towards a balance of boundaries and expectations. He could no longer drive himself into the brink of the ice. He could no longer drown himself in misery and woe. He could no longer scrape away at everyone else’s trials and forget his own. It’d be difficult; for he was the type to flicker and rally within an instant to anyone’s behest – treading lightly, carefully, so not to be daunted by the weight of his self-worth. Crowns were heavy, and he’d easily toss it aside for nothing at all but a blade in his hand and the power within his soul – but he’d take his friends, his allies, and his companions in a heartbeat too.
Maybe the same could be said for Ru though, as he watched primordial plumes begin their varnish. It caused a grin, neither boyish nor juvenile, but a genuine article, to unfurl along his mouth, dimpling portions of his cheeks not covered in beard. “It might be possible,” with an air of enigmatic prowess and a little teasing, merely to drag out the proportions – but her hidden elation was enough. Deimos didn’t need to say especially with the war; unsaid precipices already looming –
And then there was the matter at hand, causing the smile to dissipate for his residual, stern look and silence. Eyes went back towards his tea, lifting it slowly to his mouth, taking and biding his time. “Safrin told me I would be going to the Draig,” which coincided with a mixture of feelings and upheavals: that he couldn’t stay here, defending home and hearth and everyone else nestled in between, that he’d be worried for them while constantly battling other demons along mountains, and that, in the end, there could be more cataclysms waiting for them. The notions of his own potential demise hung there too, so he merely tilted his head, saying none of this. The Valkyrie would understand it, even in the midst of hushed emotions. “I will feel immensely better with you defending Halo.”
Maybe the same could be said for Ru though, as he watched primordial plumes begin their varnish. It caused a grin, neither boyish nor juvenile, but a genuine article, to unfurl along his mouth, dimpling portions of his cheeks not covered in beard. “It might be possible,” with an air of enigmatic prowess and a little teasing, merely to drag out the proportions – but her hidden elation was enough. Deimos didn’t need to say especially with the war; unsaid precipices already looming –
And then there was the matter at hand, causing the smile to dissipate for his residual, stern look and silence. Eyes went back towards his tea, lifting it slowly to his mouth, taking and biding his time. “Safrin told me I would be going to the Draig,” which coincided with a mixture of feelings and upheavals: that he couldn’t stay here, defending home and hearth and everyone else nestled in between, that he’d be worried for them while constantly battling other demons along mountains, and that, in the end, there could be more cataclysms waiting for them. The notions of his own potential demise hung there too, so he merely tilted his head, saying none of this. The Valkyrie would understand it, even in the midst of hushed emotions. “I will feel immensely better with you defending Halo.”
you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight
all venom and fistfight
