Deimos felt like his actions weren’t enough.
That he wasn’t enough.
Somehow, someway, no matter what he concocted or schemed and rolled through his mind, wasn’t enough to dissuade, to condemn, to persecute or ravage. The Pegasus remained, bloodied and skewered, but still tangible, still whole, still possessing all his faculties. To watch him still run around, alive, was disappointing.
The Reaper knew he was more than a walking portrait of obliteration and terror: he was horror, he was death, he was annihilation, and he was the living, breathing sword of the Basin. To have this wretched beast preying on his own, to have him plaguing the borders, to have him absconding with others’ artifacts, was irritating and irking on its own. But to witness him, to feel him, spearing his hide and refusing to quit only infuriated and fueled the beast further.
He was an opus, a tempest, to the rising flames of depravity; and the rage curled, simmered, settled deep into his chest, a pervading, molten mess of embroiled chaos and bedlam.
The Lord felt sand stirring near his feet, the passing edge of a kick not quite meeting his flesh as he darted to the left again, churning against the shore and the dunes, the aching pulse of pain grinding at his temple.
But again, Deimos’ resistance to bend, to break, to fall under the embrace of scavengers was harpooned; no sooner had he twisted his frame back towards the brute (to savage, to pillage, to plunder), did a bout of grit land along his features, reaching into his sight, gauging at his eyes.
They burned immediately, hot and vicious, scalding and searing. On instinct, he closed them, felt the water behind his lids try to filter away the ferocious siege, shaking his head, completely, utterly enraged by the torment rendered upon his form.
He partially opened them moments later, but his vision, once so predatory and scrutinizing, was naught more than a hazy blur, and he could only spare one solitary motion towards Gull’s movements – trying to rush forward, blindly maneuvering in a charge to get away from the glint of that damn dagger.
Still, it wasn’t sufficient, like some ridiculous, redundant pattern, and the makeshift sword found its target along his right hind, breaking through skin and sinew and blasting through his mind in wretched, immoral torment.
He couldn’t stand by and wait and rest; the temptation wasn’t even there. The devil had come here for a purpose, for an opportunity, and even if he was temporarily blinded, even if he was bleeding and sore and slowed, he’d fulfill his duty to his brethren.
Maybe that resolution would be adequate.
Luckily, he didn’t need swiftness or rapid strides to render his plans effectual. He just required the rising, striking weight of his hate, the scorching abhorrence layered and lacquered to his bones, to his veins, to his wounds.
He distorted the infernal reverie of his enchantments along his muscles, through his chest, amidst the core of his seditious splendor. He managed wrath, contorted contempt, and extended the silent, ferocious blend of nefariousness – death and demise slinked, slithered, and lingered from his hide, wandering in brutal acrimony.
His magic, his namesake, curled and coiled, then sprung towards Gull.
Then something else too, simultaneously, like a spark, like a luminescent glow, began to flicker beneath his mane. Webbed and tangled in the depths of his tendrils was an amulet, ignited, incensed, and instigated to surge by the ire pervading through him.
He wondered, through the smoke and haze and brooding culmination of agony, if the other infidel could ever be stopped. Was this a primrose path lined with only thorns, only edges, only knives? Would it make the adversary discontinue, halt, and cease his actions towards the Basin, or only goad him further?
[3/4. 636 words.
* Deimos dodges Gull’s kick, but the rushing of sand from Gull’s wings momentarily impairs his sights. During this time, he’s also struck by Gull’s dagger along the top of his right hind, breaking through his pelt and causing a laceration.
* In retaliation, he summons his death magic and attempts to hit Gull with it.
* He also activates a Spark amulet. ]
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
hang hallowed halos [Gull Challenge]
