[RE] the bleak

Deimos the Reaper master of nothing place, of recoil and grace Zuriel thrummed through their connection within an instant, as the world unraveled around them, as it became all too clear, amongst children and kin, that no matter the unicorn’s powers, Roana wouldn’t, couldn’t, be saved. Perhaps it was the first time the mare had experienced failure – she reacted quickly, reeling back from her knees, a strange look pressed into her eyes, a sullen sigh whipping through their accord, and when she glanced back at him all he could feel, all he could see, were questions lingering and flickering through her mind. You tried he surmised, and that had to be enough. It was all it could be now – monsters humming and thrumming through forms, warriors fallen in their devotion to other things. He didn’t listen to Roana’s final words – taking hold of children’s hands instead, offering calloused palms, one youth on either side, attempting to subtly drag them further into the Guild, away, away, away from the burning, from the mercy slaying, from the first barb of LongNight. He ushered Zuriel along too, feeling the distant expanse unravel beneath the tempestuous eaves, eldritch acrimony and calamity already fallen into their wake.

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