wild and bereft
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 34 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 74 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 74 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,696 | Total: 10,812
MP: 6754
#3
DEIMOS
MASTER OF NOTHING PLACE

A storm approached; he glanced up from his piles and logs, staring Rexanna straight in the face. Gone were the gentle whims, the easygoing fortitudes that had made up their existence, their pact. For some reason, he knew and understood the methods and means to their madness without a second thought, as if it were innate, deep in his bones, in his memories, in his blood – they’d done this before. Perhaps there’d been mountains then, wild and belligerent, untamed and ruthless. Maybe there’d been other missions, more extremes, but the more he breathed, the more he watched, they might’ve truly been a thief and a monarch in the mayhem, in the menace, in the ashes of fallen plots and ruses, scraping together what they could.

So he welcomed her savagery, her might, her irritation, her wrath at the world flickering and burning without them – at the expense of who they were – and met it with his own quiet, controlled fury. He preferred the intertwining flames, the terms not yet transpired, but they were coming, machinations curling, coiling, contorting in his midst, in his mind, and it was clear hers were there too – brewing, their measured calculations brooding and boiling tempestuous designs. The soldier even appreciated the fact that she’d come to him at all. They weren’t alone in their ire, in their frustrations.

There were no amiable qualities, no amicable lines; spared of the diatribes and discourse. A straight arrow – to the point, business, forming duplicity and ranting, raving the ridiculous kingdom they’d been flung into. He might’ve dwelled on the past, the blended, eerie, enigmatic quandaries constantly scraping up and down his spine; but today, it really didn’t matter. “Go ahead,” he uttered, blunt too, extending the courtesy of her contempt to become unleashed. It was a beckoning howl, it was an arcane, primordial piece stuck to his sides, to his ribs, to his lungs; he imagined there was a time and place when eloquence had to take place over action.


OF RECOIL AND GRACE
Rexanna <3


Messages In This Thread
wild and bereft - by Deimos - 03-17-2019, 07:12 PM
RE: wild and bereft - by Rexanna - 03-18-2019, 04:07 AM
RE: wild and bereft - by Deimos - 03-19-2019, 11:33 PM
RE: wild and bereft - by Rexanna - 03-21-2019, 03:21 AM
RE: wild and bereft - by Deimos - 03-22-2019, 10:01 PM
RE: wild and bereft - by Rexanna - 03-23-2019, 01:55 AM
RE: wild and bereft - by Deimos - 03-23-2019, 11:53 AM
RE: wild and bereft - by Rexanna - 03-23-2019, 05:58 PM
RE: wild and bereft - by Deimos - 03-23-2019, 06:38 PM

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