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08-20-2013, 09:42 PM
The beast tilted his head, curiosity and inquisition marking the corners of his insouciant brow. The fellow monster didn’t know of his purpose, of why he sought the scattered lands and runes, why he drew lines upon the sand, why he caught the moonlit traces of sedition? Deimos had known the wicked avarice of his decadent desires for long stretches of time, when invocations ensnared, wrapped their devilish claws and sinew into his flesh, simmered into his mind, smoldered with his father’s creeds, oaths and assurances. He’d held power in the beat of his frozen heart, felt its callous indiscretions seep into his lungs, his veins, his villainous cranium until they were driven deep into his core, bound to the dominating prowess of his pernicious persecution. He couldn’t fathom traversing in aimless wandering, with no souls to snatch, with no violence to enact, with no brutality to unravel. The Reaper’s voice crossed over the horizon, twisted in the darkness, grating, unrelenting, prospering his intrigue. “You dabble in ignorance?” Was it foolishness, to continue pursuing this stag with no aim, no goal, no aspirations, who snapped at the layers he prodded and poked with a simple query? Was it dangerous, for an entity to dabble with no ideas, no predilections? His gaze narrowed and continued the perusal of the newcomer, when Ulrik made his presence known. A solid nod was given in his direction; the General had no qualms over the mechanic’s company, already assured of his allegiance to their cause since long past. But now the creature before them had been chipped, fettered and unraveled from their questions, from their shadowed glimpses and stances – and even amongst the refusal of investigation, Deimos didn’t cease. He was not to be commanded by a stranger, especially when he was willing to extend a helping hand for a potentially lost spirit. Did he know abhorrence? Could he conjure hate? Was he capable of extending their travesties, abominations, heresies and transgressions? Did he harbor the weight of the world and wish to extend it upon his enemies? The thoughts crooned over his mind, whispered their savage, nefarious sentiments, and prospered in the nocturnal gloom. “Perhaps we could aid you.” And maybe, in a strange court to assuage damaged feelings, he conjured one more reply, a rare occasion sprouting across a muted, hushed mouth. “Your name?”
