found the brambles

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Oh? Wait, that's right," Danta says, snapping his fingers in recognition. "I guess you'd have lived through a few of those Longnights, huh. How would you describe it?" It and the Grounds in general, he supposes, because the place has changed since the war, let alone since the Maverick's time.

Scrunching his nose in both understanding and in a notion of that's a shame (he'd quite like it if the Grounds could be a tourist destination, honestly, and for a multitude of reasons along the spectrum of morality), Danta gives his drink a stir before downing the rest of it. "Ah, you like it?" He beams, also thoroughly proud of the bonfire the people of the Grounds had put together.

"Might make Deepfrost a little easier on the Ancients. Figured it was worth having something like it around." See, Nancy? He cares plenty.

Dantalion

DEIMOS

The Sword had been hoping the conversation would veer off from LongNight, and regretted bringing it up in the first place, from the moment Danta latched onto descriptions. There was no simplistic way to expand upon monsters threatening livelihoods, of everyone clambering together in hopes they could survive, of all of them still believing, persistent and determined, they could make a difference – and ultimately failing almost every time. The traumas still lingered there – some restless affliction in all of them when winter maneuvered and the darkness increased. “Horrifying,” he ended up saying, taking another long drink and pretending to stuff it all back down.

Talking about bonfires was far more interesting, and he managed a modest smile in commendation of its infernal properties. “I do.” He would’ve asked its purpose, but given the Ancients’ homestead, and Deimos never really needing much of an excuse to set things ablaze, he held the inquiry back. Besides, Danta answered it immediately thereafter, and he permitted a small laugh. “And it never goes out?”

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Horrifying, a simple yet apt description of life when Longnight monsters still rampaged, might have been enough to have anyone grow solemn and sober as a result of the revelation. Of course, though, this is Danta, and so it's with a mere raise of his eyebrows and a faint smile that he accepts Deimos's description, setting aside his empty mug and ordering another drink. (Not a coffee this time, but something sweet and mulled and hot).

His smile growing to hear approval for the bonfire burning brightly at the centre of the Inner Quarter, Danta shakes his head in affirmation of the Sword's question. "Never," he confirms. "I petitioned Dygra for help to make it. Weather, temperature, it doesn't matter - it'll stay burning, and it needs no fuel. Deepfrost ought to be a lot easier for us this year."

Dantalion

DEIMOS

The simple edges must’ve done enough, because the inquiries into LongNight’s tendencies ceased, and Deimos could pretend the miserable efforts were behind him. Finishing off his drink, he avoided snagging another for the moment, listening instead to the confirmation of infernal properties and their bolstered flames. “Very nice touch,” he added with another juvenile grin; half-wondering why they’d never thought of such a thing in the midst of living within the Grounds. A fire in the center of the world might’ve kept a multitude of the demons at bay; along with continued luring of luxere and ceasing to be moronic about opening doors.

Fingers drumming on the empty tankard instead, he opted for another tact, half in humor and half in curiosity. “Though Noah claims you do not care, what do you think of the Starfall occurrences?” Certain Kiada had at least read the mail, if not to him, detailing various incidents, reports, and gathered information – the man had already unfurled some efforts in protection, given their latest quest.

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Thank you - I did think so as well," Danta says, happily soaking up the praise and stirring his new drink with the cinammon stick that has come with it. They settle into the closest thing to companionable silence as the Maverick thinks they've ever been, and he's mid sip when Deimos brings up the Starfall. Clearly this method of interrogation has hit much better than previous efforts, because Danta actually gives it some thought before he responds.

"I can't say we had ever heard of or experienced anything like this when I was... younger? Last alive?" Scrunching his nose, he shakes off the terminology. "The void creatures are certainly a nuisance, and the island sounds ominous enough. I don't know, though... it isn't like we've seen an army marching on us, is it? Maybe it's something we need to make room for. Or just... ban from the cities, in this case."

Dantalion

DEIMOS

Not quite an interrogation, but more on portions of other leaders and their sentiments towards the ongoing circumstances. While he and Evie had assembled their efforts towards defenses, shelters, repair and renewal, Torchline had to do the same, but tenfold. Others didn’t suffer nearly as much, but he pondered over the tactics being utilized – between missives, reports, and everything else in between, it felt like they were still chasing after the same bits and pieces over and over again. Perhaps that was why he’d taken to assist in slaughtering and hunting down so many void creatures – it felt like they were doing something in the midst of all the chaos.

His brows furrowed slightly at the indication of last alive, missing a portion of that descriptor as well. Resurrection seemed to hold a bizarre influence amongst Caido and its inhabitants – but he kept the inquiries to himself, for now. Nodding, he drummed his fingers against the resin of his tankard again, clearly contemplating. “I wonder if the void creatures are merely a distraction. We have been hunting many of them.” His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, staring straight ahead while his mind calculated and pondered. “But I have heard of no one or nothing else except for this Dahlia.” The war had been far easier to understand – as gruesome and barbaric as it’d been.

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Mm... either a distraction or just a side effect," Danta agrees. "They don't seem to be doing anything other than what regular flora and fauna would do - albeit hostile." Not that he's decided to get close enough to see what they're capable of in person - the creatures taking up space in his office are quite enough in their enclosures, thank you.

Staring into his drink, he has to rack his memory for a second as Deimos mentions the woman's name - Dahlia doesn't ring a bell at first, and he snaps his fingers as it falls into place. "The sketch that Remi Taliesin sent," he murmurs. "Kiada showed me. I haven't even seen much of her, given how dangerous she is meant to be." And if they only knew of the trouble brewing in Stormbreak.

Dantalion

DEIMOS

If the creatures were just regular flora and fauna, perhaps they’d be more widely accepted and understood. Instead though, as far as they knew, Vi wanted them gone, and they’d already spread some form of disease or illness, according to Flora’s activities and experiences. “Still do not want them anywhere near others,” and he wrinkled his nose again, presuming Danta had the same notions, given their latest regional quest. “Wish we knew how they were changing.” Altering…or even appearing. If this was something in the air, or drifting along – and they had yet to figure out the means of it ceasing altogether.

The Ancient snapping his fingers in recollection had the Sword staring for a moment, and withholding a snort. “Perhaps she does not hang around the Grounds then. We have not caught sight of her in Halo either.” He’d like to keep it that way.

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"On that we can agree," Danta murmurs with a somewhat sardonic smile; let the void flora and fauna do their thing, as long as it's nowhere near the Inner Quarter or the base he's setting up here. Or in any of the other settled lands, he supposes, given that best friend Deimos is sitting right next to him. As for how the infection seems to be spreading among life on Caido, the Maverick wrinkles his nose.

"Spores, a virus, magic?" he guesses, sighing and drumming his fingers against his cup. "I suppose someone affiliated with Frey might be able to ask. They would know, you'd think." Alas, it isn't something Dygra would be interested in, that he can say for certain.

Scoffing his agreement about Dahlia and her apparent dislike of their respective regions, Danta lifts his cup and offers it out to clink against the Sword's. "I'll fucking drink to that."

Dantalion

DEIMOS

They could, and would, have their theories; much like they’d done in times of various other plagues and blights. More information would need to be acquired, and while Deimos had no inclinations of going through such trials and circumstances, he wouldn’t be surprised if he, and multitudes of others, were pulled into the ongoing notions. “Maybe,” he responded, thinking of Evie and many alike who shared their affections with Nature Frey – even Ru, with the other affiliations. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

But from there, their glasses could clink together, some matters settled and others left entirely to events yet to come.

{FIN}

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything