DEIMOS
Deimos said nothing, and looked nowhere else, but along the patterns of lanterns thereafter. As his all dimmed, the reality of the same happenstance, year after year, contorted against his spine. Used to the notions, there was no ill will towards anyone else ever chosen – just the privacy of their moments and interludes, his hands wound around portions and pieces of his fallen friends and family once more. Gathered and packed away, he gave a nod towards the Sentinel, before beginning his own departure – back towards Halo, and the comfort of known properties. There would always be more opportunities, and more years, seasons, and cycles.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
