Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place A beast, a demon, an infidel, a cretin on the rock and rubble, Lucifer’s sword thrust into reality, his ambitions had always been for power, for might, for decadence, for great, grand licentiousness – but the world always tilted, always changed, always eroded the best laid plans. So he’d been kept to tending armistices and alliances, so he’d been herded into the stream of peace and repose for the sake of his comrades, patriots, and munitions; and no matter how bitter, how rancorous, the notion tasted, the Reaper still chiseled it within his brow, across his membrane, into the fathoms of his Machiavellian schemes. Too many had disappeared, too many had wandered, too many had simply vanished for him to believe in their rigid, cold, hard, unyielding strength; they had to be built up again, layer by layer, enamel by enamel. There was no glory in loss or weakness, in fragility or feebleness, so while they strived for rigor, for balance, he had to draw and sketch himself anew too – and it was so hard to be someone other than the choking, stifling, all-consuming Reaper, with his rapier extended and his soullessness scorching, sliding, smoldering. When he wanted to do naught more than thrust his blade into an enemy’s heart, when he wanted naught but the extermination of a foe, he had to maintain patience and regard. When he craved anarchy, when he yearned for rebellion, when he desired and longed and coveted the arts of sedition, insurrection, and bold, intrepid war, the world told him no. Nothing would come of it but ruin and devastation, his herd in tatters, his kingdom a mess, his throne toppled and cracked and decimated. It wasn’t what the sovereignty needed – and no matter what he’d twisted and tethered himself to, the selfish notions had to be contorted into another region of his barbaric, sinister soul. The devil had to alter, had to morph, had to change to be of any benefit to his people.
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Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary