[se] cauldron of ghosts

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

For a man constantly torn between duty, responsibility, curiosity, and fragments of memories, the latter two won out for half a moment. Perhaps to see change, what had truly altered and expanded in all the time away – things that remained, things that altered, things that he couldn’t recognize.

Besides, the events of the festival left a very sullen snag in his spine, and after all the apprehension, the lack of control, he wanted to remember portions of self-possession. The Sword knew chaos and bedlam, fire and brimstone, and the sentiments of ice; conjuring it inwardly, along his bitter and rancorous edges, as he crossed over into a world he used to know. He hadn’t dared to ask Evie to join him – no need to bring both to the brink of torment.

The grass sprawled out before him, farmland long and reaching, as if they hadn’t tried for years to get the fields working. A marketplace, quiet and relatively undisturbed unfurled as his long strides carried him along the dirt road, and he couldn’t help the inclination to look for the familiar roof of a bakery, the telltale shutters of the bookshop, sprigs of lavender unfurling from gardens. Some still stood, outlasting the wake of the world, boasting over their ability to survive while the rest imploded and fell. The barracks were there too, but visibly altered from his days of constructing them; piercing gaze landing upon the wood and stone.

He didn’t bother glancing for his old home either; figuring it was another one of the many scorch marks upon the earth. And with a sigh, he began wandering again towards the rest of the market, striving to find something new out of the past.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"I know you."

Danta appears at Deimos's side like some uninvited poltergeist. It's not so surprising, when you think about it; as a man with the Sword's stature and presence (not to mention that he was a household name in the Hollowed Grounds even before he was instrumental in the end of the war), more than one head is already turning towards him in the marketplace. If Deimos thinks about it, Danta's doing him a favour by chatting him up before anyone else does.

(Whether the other man takes it that way or not is another question entirely).

"Deimos," he recalls with a snap of his fingers. "You got my leg out of a trap. I owe you a drink." You know, because he'd walked off before Danta could try to get in his pants thank him properly last time. "You were at the festival too, right? Reckon I saw you skipping."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Mood verging on melancholic and pensive, he hadn’t expected anyone to materialize nearby. Most citizens of the Grounds, either in the past or present, knew enough to steer clear or keep a respectable distance; even if it had been years since his strides had pressed through their wakes. Glancing downwards in his residual stoicism, to find Danta of all people, did cause an arch of his brow, a steely nod of his head, uncertain if he was eager for antics presently.

“It is fine,” to ward off another pending invitation to drinks – especially if it was still Sunjata’s old haunt, because he’d be sorely tempted to set it ablaze out of spite.

The nature of the festival made his eyes narrow, nose threatening to wrinkle. “Not one of my favorites.” He’d seen the Ancient there too, streaking around, but that struck him as something the man probably did in his free time anyway. Hadn’t there been something else…

Reflecting briefly on the events, a juvenile turn of his mind began to form; his features reticent once more. “You were talking to Ru.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

Whether or not Deimos is eager is irrelevant; antics arrive regardless, and Danta seems more than comfortable to stroll at the Sword's side. Waving off the insistence that it was fine, the Ancient luckily hasn't explored enough of the Grounds to know of the VlamVloed, so at least Deimos is safe for now.

"Oh? Made that much of an impression, did it?" he says of the festival with a fanged grin, lingering by a market stall to examine the goods - honey and beeswax, it turns out to be. "I thought it was a lot of fun. People are really uptight around here." Around here being all of Caido, in his opinion.

Mention of Hotaru does have him glancing over his shoulder while he trades for some honey, Danta raising his eyebrows. "Mm, I was. She's a remarkable woman." His smile suggests Deimos should know in exactly what way he means, not that the Ancient is aware of the nature of his relationship with her.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

His gaze meandered to the kiosks, though couldn’t find it in his heart to snag or haggle anything to take home. Instead, he nodded to a few merchants he recognized, content that they’d survived, managed to outlast the rest of the wake.

Festival impressions nearly had him sneering, so he opted for a shrug of his shoulders instead. A lack of control, and being made to do things out of his composure irritated the Sword, on principle, but there hadn’t been any death and destruction – so it remained slightly above the horrors of Fiat Lux. As for the uptight comment, because he certainly was one of them, he gave a brief snort. “Probably the trauma,” he mentioned – to be fair, Deimos had come to this world with his own brand of trials, tribulations, nightmares, and hardships. Caido simply seemed to add to the miserable collection. “Do you live here?” Danta struck him as the type to maneuver throughout lands, free of any true direction.

He refrained from laughing at the smile and suggestive tilt; it told him all he needed to know. The Valkyrie had found herself another conquest. The Warden withheld the knowledge that she probably would’ve been the sort to leave Danta in the bear trap. The same reticent air, besides the slight arch of his brow, remained, eyes flickering back to the market stalls. “Where did you meet?” It certainly hadn’t been in Halo.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Mm, I suppose trauma will do that. Waste of a good time though, if you ask me," Danta murmurs, slipping the jar of honey into the pocket of his coat and picking up his pace to stroll beside Deimos again, enjoying the Leafchange breeze and feeling content, for now, that it isn't too cold. "Me? No, not yet," he replies - the Sword is right, though, and he does have a propensity to wander. But hells, maybe the Blood Moon festival being held here is a sign or something?

Anyway, the joke's on Deimos, because if Hotaru had left him in the bear trap, he'd have still found it hot. "Oh, we met in Torchline. Her daughter's grand reopening of the Hanged Man," he explains. He doesn't say he works with Flora separately as part of the thieves' guild, because advertising that sort of thing feels a bit counter-intuitive. "Shame she's gone back to Halo, really." You know, because it's precisely the sort of place he can't follow.

"You know her well?" It's an assumption born of the nickname he'd used, nothing more.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

“You could probably find the same sort of entertainment in Torchline.” Amidst the drunken frivolity and antics, Deimos presumed there’d be a number of fools hastening towards bonfires, streaking, skipping, and the like. Or a decent bar fight. His eyes roamed more of the kiosks as they passed through, though he blinked once or twice when spying some Ludo and Safrin puppets, deliberate knock-offs of years past, and had to hide either a grin or a snort.

Besides, the other statement caused another arch of his brow. “Yet?” The thought of someone like Danta residing amidst the Grounds was different – considering its current platitude, and probably had little to offer the Ancient in terms of amusement and diversions. Unless he liked to chase after banshees through the woods.

Meetings between the Valkyrie lined up with her vacation notions, and what he’d heard of Flora’s recent ventures – Thieves Guild included. But one to keep information in his machinations, and not given outwardly or freely unless necessary, he mentioned nothing of the sort. “Yes. She is family.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"And yet here we both are in the Grounds," Danta says with an easy shrug of his shoulders, vaguely aware all of a sudden of the number of people snatching a glance at Deimos out of the corners of their eyes, the way the crowd parts before them subconsciously. "You a local legend here or something?" he asks, following the other man's gaze to the Ludo and Safrin puppets and tilting his head, though it of course means nothing to the Ancient.

Danta likes to chase after a lot of things in the woods, but that's besides the point. It's also why yet still punctuates his statement, because compared to Torchline this place really is a dead zone, but... who knows. Maybe it's a diamond in the rough. "I've been thinking about moving here," he says, pausing and tilting his head at movement nearby. Something round and orange - looks almost like a pumpkin rolling around by itself.

Unable to help it as Deimos confesses that Hotaru is family, Danta scoffs out a laugh and reaches out carelessly to pat the other man's arm. "Gods, what a shame for you," he laments.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Here they were indeed – though Deimos had the excuse of angst and nosiness. He wasn’t sure about Danta’s. Though, it seemed his years away hadn’t affected much of anything with the townspeople, and despite never having the ability, he suddenly wished he could sink very low into the ground and disappear. Maybe with his earth magic. The question made his eyes narrow, glancing away from the crowd and market stalls. “Used to live here,” which didn’t encompass the wide and vast array of actions, from small rebellions and establishing safety nets. Or trying to save things and watching them fall apart anyway.

The next statement broke him out of threatening melancholy though – blinking rapidly, then tilting his head, as if he hadn’t heard the Ancient correctly. “Why?” The vampire gourd rolling nearby didn’t escape his notice or gaze, saved only due to its proximity. Besides, he was still striving to figure out the method of madness here – but maybe not everyone saw the Hollowed sanction the way they all had before, full of sorrows, regrets, and devastation.

Danta’s laugh almost made him want to plug his ears from the insinuations behind it, settling for an inward grimace instead, shifting from the pat and focusing his attention on another set of gourds in the distance.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Oh? If living here is all it takes to have people falling over themselves to get a glimpse of you, maybe I should have considered it sooner." Yes, of course Danta is making fun, but whilst he hasn't known Deimos nearly long enough to make assumptions, the tight-lipped nature of the man beside him is enough for him to know he likely won't be getting any further information on the subject.

That his statement about moving to the Grounds has succeeded in shocking the Sword is regrettably lost on Danta, too; intrigued by the sight of the rolling pumpkins with their ghoulish smiles - and the way one of the merchants punts one of the gourds without a care - he's already starting to list towards them when Deimos speaks. "Huh?" Gazing over his shoulder at the other man, he flashes him a fanged grin.

"Because nobody wants it," he says simply. "Can't step on toes by moving in. Especially if a few more Ancients want to join me."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Uncertain how to take Danta’s statement, his brows furrowed, long strides continuing to course their way along the market. “Does not matter most of the time anyway, since I live in Halo.” And that population was long since used to his antics, willingness to provide, protect, shelter, and defend; though were far less intrusive about it, given the Grounders’ stares.

The gourds ahead were distracting anyway, yielding to years past when they’d all done much of the same – punting, kicking, throwing, annihilating, and there was the restless impulse to do so again. Instead, he watched as one soared in a glorious arc, before meandering closer too – already enticed into notions of destruction.

But there were reasons immersed too, and the Sword had to wonder what became of Darkeye, to have been so determined and then nothing thereafter. “The Grounds has suffered tremendously,” whether it be through barrier portions, the Voice, its own habitat and the creatures littered within, the monsters of LongNight…his jaw clenched. “It would be nice for it to thrive.” Whether Danta and his cohorts were up to such a challenge remained to be seen.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Ah, that's right. I remember you saying so before." Halo seems to be a hub of activity, and Danta's a little jealous to be honest. Perhaps he should invest in a snowsuit. "I bet you're just as popular there, though," he adds. People like Deimos can't help but be noticed, even when (especially when) they're trying not to be. The gravitas he carries is undeniable, and though the Ancient doesn't know the breadth of the Sword's deeds inside and out of the Grounds, they certainly speak louder than his few words.

Drawn to chaos almost subconsciously, Danta finds himself following suit towards the vampiric pumpkin patch, cold blue eyes curious and perhaps a little predatory as he watches them roll and tumble. It doesn't take long for one to try and amble up to them, vines flailing, but as it hisses its challenge, the Ancient's foot comes down hard onto its fleshy orange body, busting it to pulp.

"What are these?" he wonders. "If they've got anything to do with the Grounds suffering, I can definitely think of a few ways to help it thrive again." Gourds might make interesting ammo for catapaults, for instance.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Deimos and popularity had never gone together in his mind, nor had he ever cared about acclaim. Actions were derived and accomplished out of necessity, and never for the reaches of recognition. He still didn’t care for constant stares, but at least in Halo, they usually came with notes, missives, tasks, or insight into the world around him. Here, he felt like a living shadow, walking along the edges of the past, and striving to find the present path. A meandering ghost, in a world that had too many. “Perhaps,” he gave forth in a slight smirk and nothing more; the discomfort in it all straightening out his shoulders.

But the pumpkins were a welcome reprieve, rolling stupidly towards them, and the Sword might’ve gazed upon them with a distinct and feral fondness. Instead, he watched as Danta’s foot came crashing down, muffling a rapacious laugh until it corresponded into a blatant snort. “Vampire gourds,” was a rumble, and then his own boot came into contact with one threatening to gnaw on the laces, and he watched as it suddenly soared over the top of a kiosk stall, and went crashing out of sight. “They tend to be more of a nuisance than anything else.” Shrugging again as another neared and he stepped into its pathway, machinations worked over their uses in prior years. “But you can use them in many desserts.”

Uncertain if Danta wanted a history lesson, and how much the Warden could even provide in that nuance, he permitted a long, slow breath, contemplating the level of destruction he’d harbor on the next rolling beast. “The Voice’s actions harmed a lot of it.” The ferocious pumpkins were nothing compared to all the other onslaughts.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Dantalion

but you can't be free

PeRhAps, Danta repeats privately in his mind, and though his focus is mainly on the gourd he's crushed underfoot and how it might taste roasted and smothered with the honey in his pocket, he can't help but appreciate how unbelievably cool Deimos is about pretty much everything. Like, Danta genuinely finds it hard to believe, and wonders whether the Sword becomes some quivering mess behind closed doors to make up for it.

He even doubts that, though, by the stifled laugh, the Ancient flashing him a fanged grin as if to say gotcha, only for another gourd to be unceremoniously punted over one of the stalls. "Good shot," he remarks, even if the name vampire gourds feels ridiculous. "Hear that?" he tells one of the pumpkins that tries to hassle them next. "You'd be a really good pie." Opting to kick it as well, Danta's ends up tumbling into some undergrowth with an angry, disorientated hisssss.

"Ah, heard about her," he says of the Voice. "Suppose I can't complain, though. She helped wake us up."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!