[Mini Event] What Dreams May Come

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos would be the first to admit that he was still woefully ignorant about this threshold. He’d experienced several seasons in its grasp, but wasn’t much closer to comprehending its abilities, its potential, its reasons for the horrors, treacheries, and boundaries. He could understand manmade abominations and tyrannies; had been a part of them since he’d lived and breathed on the battlefield – but he was an outsider here, abandoned, forsaken, meant to absorb information as much as he grasp. So he attended the meeting to listen, to take it in, to try and fathom the reaches of the Spire and its barriers. He was one more shadow in the back of the room, incapable of proffering much of anything but his infernal existence, stoic and reticent, catching the notes of conversation interlaced with discussion of the hows, the what ifs, and the potency of the future. He had no apprehension in planning for the future; the beast was dedicated to meticulous calculations, warrior machinations, the coldblooded press of schemes, ruses, and plots. But they’d been manifested in the dens of generals and soldiers; government and politics almost made him want to slide out the door. The Spire Monster was a more intriguing notion (because desecration and annihilation was in his blood; and he wished he knew more, he longed to participate in just striking down some massive beast), but he still had nothing to add, naught to contribute. There seemed to be a juxtaposition of what everyone wanted – to dream of the world outside borders and heathens, to explore the rest of the void, or to remain, comfortable and secure in what they knew. He didn’t know what he craved or yearned for either; forced into the flow of the ongoing strife and struggles, heading upstream and refusing to bend, bow, or break. master of nothing place of recoil and grace