Deimos
Deimos never cared if anyone else loathed or detested him for how he’d been born. He carried the magic in his veins like honor and conviction, contorted them for the sake of humanity time and time again, saved, sheltered, created, coiled – and strived to do the same for anyone else in similar wakes. There was no shame, no embarrassment, no humiliation, and even amidst the gods, after trial and error and faith, had managed to store some amount of justice. He presumed he and Evie’s future children would likely be in the same regard – Abandoned, and could be proud of such origins because there was nothing to be repentant for. He’d see to it that each individual in Halo was treated just the same. If anything, it was a refuge, a sanctuary, a shelter, for those to find their way.
So he waited for Noah’s reaction, wondering if there was an undercurrent he’d never detected, or something else, something more binding away at foolish decisions. Cordelia’s experiences in the war had lent something of a backlash, and while Deimos could understand the protection and armor the Forsaken had yearned to create, keeping his wife in the dark hadn’t been the correct angle. Especially after telling others first and foremost. The Sword’s eyes lingered downward for a moment, before his hands began to maneuver another effigy, feeling a call of restlessness again. “As long as you learn from that mistake,” and he winked, a slight wrinkle to his nose.
The other news left his brow furrowed though, and a long, unwinding breath unraveled from his lungs. “All right. You may want to write to all the leaders and let them know. I can tell Evie.” His mind already began drumming out methodical notes and figures, contemplating next steps and actions. “I can likely bring out guild members and take care of some.” Perhaps with the change of the season, once they saw if anything else altered.
So he waited for Noah’s reaction, wondering if there was an undercurrent he’d never detected, or something else, something more binding away at foolish decisions. Cordelia’s experiences in the war had lent something of a backlash, and while Deimos could understand the protection and armor the Forsaken had yearned to create, keeping his wife in the dark hadn’t been the correct angle. Especially after telling others first and foremost. The Sword’s eyes lingered downward for a moment, before his hands began to maneuver another effigy, feeling a call of restlessness again. “As long as you learn from that mistake,” and he winked, a slight wrinkle to his nose.
The other news left his brow furrowed though, and a long, unwinding breath unraveled from his lungs. “All right. You may want to write to all the leaders and let them know. I can tell Evie.” His mind already began drumming out methodical notes and figures, contemplating next steps and actions. “I can likely bring out guild members and take care of some.” Perhaps with the change of the season, once they saw if anything else altered.
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
