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12-06-2014, 03:16 PM
 Edges shorn and rancor coiled, he stilled amidst the quiet chatter, waited for an opportunity to slither, crawl, whisk away, back into mountains and caverns, driven back into isolation and desolation with the forlorn twist of control and decadence. Rigid, taciturn, and unyielding, tangible monstrosity bound and embroiled, he stared down the length of his fellow inhabitants, piercing, defying, harpooning the platitude, the vestiges, of his niceties, withdrawing, fleeting, closing back into himself. Muted, numbed, he only spoke when spoken to, gestured by the new Lady with queries over the herd, parting his maw to chisel the answers throughout the air, a chamber of seclusion, segmented and partitioned far beyond the reaches of their cheer, their merriment. “That is fine.” Stiffened, listening to the drums, the ideas of sirens and their wanton calls, indicators, ways to coax the harem back into winters’ hands when danger drew near (and then he’d slaughter the treachery following them, massacre, obliterate, defile, and demand, over and over again, his favored noose, his soulless opus), he hastened to flee – and still, more questions, more inquiries (did she talk more than the GildedBlade?) requiring him to reply: the status of their soldiers, the wake of their impersonators. If there was anything to be proud of, it was the furtive glances and specious unraveling by their spies, whittling away enemies bit-by-bit, item-by-item, information-by-information. The fighters, however, needed to be strengthened – perhaps all of them, by some measures, had to be hardened, built into intensive behemoths, brawny ministrations, to merge and conquer the foul wind brewing across the horizon. “The spies have done well, and the soldiers should be tested more.” He paused, narrowed his stare, remembered, visualized, the bloodthirsty machinations of the battlefield, felt it crow and screech in his veins. “All of us could do with practice. We will prepare the willing.” The Reaper confirmed this with a blunt nod, a sharpened glare, a firm bite on the ghastly chords keening their surroundings; preparations had to be noted, completed, and their empire needed to be galvanized.
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone |
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