02-20-2017, 06:47 PM
There had been a hot minute from the time he had taken flight there in the middle of the blizzard, and when he touched down in that nasty wasteland known as Pangea. A bleeding scar, the land there was harsh and rocky. Only the hardiest could survive… and Deimos was beyond cheating Death.
He, according to Kilter, had become Death.
It was an everlasting curse; eternity of ever wandering, never having peace, and being able to process the thoughts of another. It was a heavy burden that he and others like him carried—the fate of the fae and the ability to hear their thoughts, and weild it against them. His headspace was so crowded, that at times, Deimos would disappear to this place just to get peace from all the noise. The entitled want of those who considered themselves “good.” The gimme gimme gimme.
It was disgusting.
Hardly ever was anyone deserving of anything, but still the lies they tell to themselves… they deserve it because they are good. Lies.
There was nothing more real, honest, and becoming than those who were honest with themselves and acknowledged the dirty little sins that roiled around in their heads, and their hearts. Deimos merely acted as he wished and took what was his. He scratched out a living, obtaining the power that he had found for himself.
He was the most alive dead thing, and in acknoweldgeing his darkness, was more honest than those of the light.
Just so, that little hussy Raeg’n. She was the biggest liar he’d known in a lifetime.
Because he could read her thoughts, and she was no saint.
And so, he looks around for her, his little skylark, and the boy that had attached himself to them.
The time had come.
Would he be ready?
"KILTER! RAEG'N!"
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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