[SE] ignis aurum probat

"Mm?" Fox glances down from a steam of lava oozing somewhere off in the distance, only to flush a bit as he realises what Deimos is asking. "Ah, well. It's not the same as when we needed to replenish ourselves from the Voice, but I'd say we do still have a hunger that's separate to food and drink. Bloodlust, it's called." And hopefully Deimos can figure out what it might entail from the title alone. "But it's not like it sneaks up on us," Fox adds quickly. "And I am always careful to make sure mine isn't a problem." As if the burly hybrid might be worried about being eaten by him. As if. Nodding gently to hear of his experiences with Safrin, the Ancient can only smile to himself a little sadly. "It makes me wonder how things might have turned out if I'd aligned myself with her instead." fox

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

Bloodlust caused his brow to arch, but not much more than that. “Probably not unlike many of our predator shifts,” amidst the Attuned anyway; when first overwhelmed by the notions of carnivorous and raptorial inclinations. Those initial impulses were enough to rankle and seethe over edges of human characteristics, and control became a contorted semblance. Deimos had always exercised exactly that – but the hunting insinuations had been impossible to ignore just the same.

And while Fox might’ve been worried about the insinuations, the Sword certainly wasn’t. Rarely, if ever, worried about himself, he only thought back to others in his care, in protective strongholds and defenses. If these calls and necessities were ever going to be a problem; perhaps not for Fox, but others. His thoughts contorted rapidly, pondering, considering, multitudes of angles and options. “Do you hunt something to alleviate it?”

To hear the other statement thereafter though, caused his piercing gaze to flicker downward, because there might’ve been many who had said the same thing, once upon a time. Knowing the reasons behind some of his friends, like Rexanna’s, rationale for seeking out Ascension, sometimes he couldn’t quite understand others. “What made you go to the Voice instead?”

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

Humming his agreement, Fox doesn't want to add that predatory shifts don't turn you to stone if you ignore them, and so he wisely keeps the comment locked behind his teeth. It probably wouldn't lead their conversation anywhere positive anyway. "Mm? Oh - yes. Larger creatures stave it off for longer, I find. But I've not met any other Ancients to really confirm or deny it." Smiling sheepishly, he wonders if he'd be considered typical of his species or if he's some kind of anomaly. Trailing a hand along one of the tunnel walls, he almost doesn't realise that he's said his last comment out loud until Deimos responds to it, and Fox huffs out an awkward sort of laugh. "Poverty," he confesses. "Back behind the barrier when mutated plants and animals made farming practically impossible... I was just tired of being cold and hungry," he says. "Being an Ascended meant I didn't need to eat or sleep or feel pain. Seemed like a sweet gig at the time." fox

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

Keeping the information tucked away in the back of his mind, the Sword nodded, pondering if further with a narrowed gaze pinpointed on walls and another set of shadows as they rounded a corner. “Interesting, nonetheless. Glad to hear it is manageable.” From Fox’s standpoint, at the very least. He hadn’t asked any others; like Edmund (who seemed twitchy),  Dantalion (who just seemed…odd), or Kiada (who had enough on her plate).

As for why another had turned to the Voice, his gaze fell to the floor instead, features rendered and returned to their usual stoicism. The Grounds had their own maelstroms and conundrums, without the support of anything other than themselves and one another – and based on how things had gone…he couldn’t say he was surprised by the outcomes. Ascension meant alleviating worries – a kind of statis and immortality most never would have been able to maintain or find elsewhere. “Understandable,” he said eventually, realizing he'd gone quiet again. “Hopefully this time around will be kinder for you.” And so many others – because at least it was another chance, another opportunity.

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

"Sure, that's one way of looking at it," Fox says with a smirk, not having expected interesting to being one of the words applied to his situation. "But you're right. It's not as though I wake up one day with it gnawing at me. It's more of a slow burn." And providing he isn't alone without anything and anyone around, he imagines it should never cause much of a problem. But let's not tempt fate. Rounding the corner with Deimos, as it happens they're a couple of broody silencers, because Fox has slipped back into his own thoughts about life pre-Ascended as well. Clearing his throat and conjuring another smile for the other man, he nods. "It has been so far. Helps that people aren't quite as suspicious when they first meet you," he admits, squinting at ruddy light spilling through an opening up ahead. "Are you heading up?" he asks. fox

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

Deimos fell silent and quiet, tucking all the information in the back of his mind for further perusals and musings. His main point and junctures had always been the safety of his people, his friends, and his loved ones – and as long as the Ancients, and multitudes of others, didn’t represent a threat to any of those aspects, then he found no issue with them. Thus far, he’d found them to be much the same as everyone else. So he nodded, brows furrowing only slightly as his calculations churned along that constantly machinating mind.

He couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that came at the next statement though. Probably war-hardened and still tired of being on the tense, apprehensive end of wondering what would happen amidst the Ascended again, even years later. “Fair enough. Though I do not think it was always that way,” at least not for him. “But announcements of war do a lot to people.” Alter. Change.

Squinting at the light, and then glancing down at the darkling draw, he offered a slight sigh. “Not yet. I would like to find one of these things, and then head home.” Pausing momentarily in his long strides, he glanced back at Fox. “You?”

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

The laughter is surprising, and it does a lot to tug a tension away from Fox's shoulders that he hasn't even been aware is there. Returning it with a boyish smile, he does manage a reluctant nod, even though his own opinions on the matter are somewhat black and white. Having never found much pleasure in being an Ascended (because what pleasure is there, in his humble opinion), it was neither a surprise nor all that painful when the aggression towards them had heightened. "That they do," he agrees regarding the way war had come to bloody people's tongues. "Long may it be before we see any more conflict." Stepping towards the light, Fox is painted in its rusty rays as he turns to glance back at Deimos. "I think I'll keep exploring the Climb," he decides. "There's a lot that I haven't seen of the place yet. But it was good to meet you, Deimos. I hope you find what you're looking for, and I'll be sure to send a letter about the situation in the Grounds." fox

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

“I can agree to that,” he uttered with a snort and a residual shake of his head, though not in pretense or sedition; but in the truth and heart of the matter. Even if it was difficult to believe in the idea of peace, amidst the swarm of it settled around them. Sometimes the Sword still didn’t know what to do with himself in the notions of restoration and repose.

But it was time for a parting of ways, and so he nodded towards Fox. “Nice to meet you too. Enjoy yourself.” Perhaps Fox would gain greater insight about the world, just as Deimos had done on this day. “I will look for it,” on promises of letters and missives. “Take care.” And with a wave, and a swing of Belial’s tail, they were off, further down into the caverns.

{FIN <3}

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead