the rest will fall in line

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts The gift was accepted; obligation for obligation, debt for debt, favor for favor. He knew how to work those angles, had tried and benefitted from it what felt like eons ago, forging deals and planting alliances, seeds sown for new generations for uproot or cultivate. His hands released the fabric while his Machiavellian pursuits worked on other inquiries and questions floating in his mind: why were they taken? What had exposed them? Were they any guards at the pit? Were there any other threats lingering in the woods, waiting to rip them apart, tear them limb from limb? The more pressing matter entertained the notion that at the very least they were alive (for now pressed against his cranium, forced him back into the more calculating, coldblooded foundations of his life; back when there was more than weapons at his disposal, more than death in his hands). “What else do you require?” The Reaper wouldn’t say tell Jiao that in his desperation he was easily won over, he’d make any damned number of things for a piece of intel, for something he could grasp and hold onto, something to ensure they might survive another day, that he might be given another opportunity to outwit and outplay the Fae nestled in the grass, in the trees, in the boughs, waiting for the jaws that snap and the claws that clench. The fight was always strong in his veins, determined, resolved, ruthless in his command. “What do the Fae intend to do with them?” the last of a line of lasts