I carried my own ashes to the mountains
The Sword was prone to places of cold and endlessness, boundaries of isolation, tucked away from the crowd while they built and defended and secured. Stormbreak hadn’t necessarily been those things, but it was clear how much they’d valued their history, legacies, and ability to once stand proudly above the rest. As if there’d been an arrogance and conceit to the stone legions and towers, but not amidst the people. Perhaps that too had drifted off when they were attacked, fell apart, and lost things too, like the rest of the world. "Nice" was a relative term. “I saw the Plaza, which I think you would enjoy.” Color amidst the grey, bustling with activity. “Plenty of shops, inns, and cafes.” It might’ve been more tolerable in his own mind had he not been bombarded instantly by political notions, but they could always return another time.
Pausing, his eyes roamed back to hers, watching her from the corner of his gaze. “And their training grounds too,” as expected, given who he was. “The Dragon’s Nest,” which, yes, sounded all the more pretentious the more he thought about it. But Deimos would admit to a strong amount of bias on that account. “I like our barracks much better.”
Pausing, his eyes roamed back to hers, watching her from the corner of his gaze. “And their training grounds too,” as expected, given who he was. “The Dragon’s Nest,” which, yes, sounded all the more pretentious the more he thought about it. But Deimos would admit to a strong amount of bias on that account. “I like our barracks much better.”
DEIMOS
