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RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-13-2025
Given how often Deimos extended offers of opportunities, he hadn’t considered her reaction. He glanced at her again, quickly, at the stopping and starting, wondering if he’d done something to gain ire or upset endeavors, but it was quickly erased and faded once her words were clear. Snorting, he grinned. [say]“You are welcome. We have the quarters in Halo – there is a library, rooms, bounty information and the like, whenever you feel the need to go in.”[/say] Something there, warm and inviting, with a healthy hearth and multitudes to gain with information, sagacity, and experience.
Her other words caused his brow to arch – as he’d spotted a slight flare for the dramatic and perhaps imagery from something of Evie’s favored tomes – and gave a vague roll of his eyes, but his own dry humor was laden there, in the touch of half a grin. [say]“Much more of the latter. I do not tolerate dangerous feats of foolishness – especially on hunts when being irresponsible can lead to someone’s death.”[/say] No need for posing on peaks and valleys, for making things more difficult than they needed to be. There were hundreds of ways to get themselves killed; why make it that much easier for monsters and cretins? They could save the dramatics for elsewhere.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-15-2025
The offer settles into me slowly, like warmth in my chest that spreads the longer I sit with it. I hadn’t expected to feel so… seen. Not just tolerated or allowed to try—but welcomed. A place to sleep, to train, to learn. To be found.
I smile before I can stop myself, glancing sidelong at Deimos. [say]”I was already looking forward to visiting Elizabeth,”[/say] I say. [say]”Now I’ll get to tell her I’ve got a place to stay instead of having to crash on her couch.”[/say] My voice is light, but there’s something real beneath it.
I’ve been adding places to my list for years now—barns, attics, spare cots, cottages, apartments, some with better roofs than others. But this one’s gonna be different, I can feel it. I lift a shoulder, casual, but the words feel like something more than small talk. [say]This might even beat the hayloft in King’s End. Jury’s still out.[/say]
When he rolls his eyes at my dramatics, I catch the faint pull of a grin on his mouth—and it sparks something fierce and satisfied in me. That’s a win.
But then he speaks again—serious, grounded—and the wind seems to still around us. His voice doesn’t leave room for pretense, and I don’t try to pretend. I nod once, slow. It’s not hard to agree. Not when I mean it.
[say]”Any glory worth having’s in getting the job done right. That’s what my dad always said, and mom too, at least when she was being honest. She made a lot of messes chasing the shiny version of things when she was a kid. Paid for them, too."[/say] I glance down at my boots, snow crusted on the toes, before looking back up. [say]”I don’t need a big name or a title. I just want to pull my weight. And maybe learn how to actually fight something without losing both my daggers next time.”[/say]
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-15-2025
He gave another smile at the notions of Elizabeth, content to hear she was continuing to extend her hospitality as well. He could hear the depths of some relief, or maybe just acceptance; he didn’t know the youth long enough to know what cemented as something liberating and reassured simultaneously, but he knew his own feelings on the measures. Halo had been that for him, in myriads of ways, that tossing the rope out to others was simple, concrete, and infinite. [say]“Yes, well, let me know if they are not as accommodating.”[/say] Snorting, the Sword maneuvered further through the snow, long strides sweeping through as Zuriel followed alongside, continuing in the fire ritual upon void corpses while furrowing his brows – certain the rooms in the guild quarters were above piles of hay.
But he listened to how his warning was received as well. He’d had to pull multitudes out of the most-alarming situations far too many times, for most things that simply didn’t have to occur. Where lives were almost gone within an instant, and he had no means of bringing them back. He could shield and he could protect and he could preserve, but only so far. There had to be thoughts behind the eyes, rather than giving over to the nature of impulse or the wide gaze of theatrics and showboating. He didn’t have the time nor the luxury of it – not with so many other consequential demons knocking at their doors.
His brow arched at her answer though – and some own his relief measured through his shoulders, not nearly as overburdened. [say]“Most of us have seen or made the messes,”[/say] of that he could be certain, himself included. [say]“Experience is a difficult teacher.”[/say] His eyes lifted along the stretch of snow and hunters pulling their weaponry back together, watching over flames. [say]“But that is good. And I will hold you to it,”[/say] he advised with a wrinkle to his nose.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-15-2025
[say]"I hope you do,"[/say] I say readily when he says he'll hold me to my word, smiling a little bit. If he holds me to it, then I probably have a better chance at survival.
The snow crunches beneath my boots as I follow in his wake, steps smaller but no less certain. There’s a quiet warmth settling in me—it’s in his words, the small signs of approval. The way he says good like he means it. Like maybe I’m not just some kid trying too hard.
My fingers drift to my sleeve, to the tear where the luxere caught me. The fabric’s stiff with dried blood, and I rub my thumb along the jagged edge without really thinking. The jacket’s a little too big, the shoulders broad. It used to be my dad’s. Still smells faintly like pine and peppermint, especially in the pockets, even after a dozen hard washes.
Mom… she’d be proud, probably. Worried sick, of course. She never stopped looking for threats in every room, and the idea of me picking fights with monsters would’ve had her pacing the walls. But underneath all of that? She’d get it. Maybe too well.
Dad would’ve been worried too, I think. Just like Mom. They were both assassins once, both so deeply trained in caution that half the time it looked like detachment. But I like to think he’d be proud. That if he could see me now—bloodied, maybe a little foolish, but standing—he’d see more than just risk. He’d see that I’m trying.
And mom? She’d never say it out loud, but I think this is what she was hoping for. Not the danger, maybe, but the direction.
I shake the thoughts loose with a quiet breath and pick up my pace slightly, matching Deimos’s stride.
[say]”The guild has only been around ten years, right?”[/say] I say, glancing at him. [say]It just feels older, I guess. Like it’s something that’s always existed, even if it hasn’t.”[/say] I turn the idea over for a second, then add, [say]”What made you take it on? Was it something you wanted, or something someone asked you to carry?”[/say]
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-16-2025
[say]“Around that, yes,”[/say] he imagined, off and on. Ronin at the helm initially, before passing the motions onwards. The question gave him pause though – because for all the things Deimos carried, he’d never really asked for them. Or strived, as it were. His goals hadn’t been Warden, nor Guildmaster. It’d been soldier, through and through, protection and shelter and defensive proceedings, to keep to his own devices, to be shrouded in shadow and not much more. And it was enough – living with his melancholy, in a constant state of mourning and agony – until things altered, changed.
He gave a light snort, ushering Zuriel along and glancing overhead for Belial, listening to the depths of the cloven hooves prancing and launching from boughs and branches. [say]“I only took it on as a way to honor Kiada – Ronin had given it to her, and then she died,”[/say] he paused there, eyes narrowing slightly, taking another deep breath. [say]“She is back again after quite a harrowing journey, but had no inclination of having it once more.”[/say] So he bore that too, along with all the other mantles. [say]“I enjoy it, regardless,”[/say] and he gave another slight smile, surveying the flames nearby briefly, coaxing a few to more light and persistence with the command of fire and infernos.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-16-2025
I don’t freeze, but I falter—just for a moment. Not because it’s the first time I’ve heard of someone coming back from the dead. I know it happens. Mom brought Ronin back, right? Stories like that have always hovered around the edges of my life, as common as legends can be when your mother used to stand inside them.
But it still catches me. Still tightens something behind my ribs.
I glance down, brushing at the edge of the tear in my sleeve again. It’s not the wound I’m thinking about—it’s the jacket. My dad’s. He’s been gone three years now, and the thought of him not being gone is a door I try not to open too wide. Still, when stories like this slip out, the hope creeps in anyway.
[say]”Kiada came back?”[/say] I echo softly, more curious than shocked. [say]”If you don’t mind me asking… what happened to her? And how did she return?”[/say]
I watched the light leave him. I buried him myself. But some part of me—some reckless, aching part I know I got from mom—still listens for footsteps that never come. Still collects stories like these and tucks them away, just in case.
[say]"I’m not expecting anything,"[/say] I add quickly, not wanting to sound like I’m chasing ghosts. [say]"I just… always wonder. Just in case there’s something I haven’t heard of yet."[/say]
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-17-2025
He could hear the curiosity threading through, another cautious thing. He wouldn’t be so apt to even answer had Kiada not been returned – the responses would’ve been far more difficult to pull from behind clenched or ground teeth. For the echoing efforts though, he glanced back at her, eyes narrowing in brief speculations that he wouldn’t be voicing. It wasn’t his business on who or what or why she’d want the multitudes – but there were always hordes gone in Caido. Loss was substantial. It’d rankled down through his bones so many times that death was an old friend; but not one he was content to greet. [say]“She was lost during an attempt to gain Tanau back,”[/say] he managed at first, easier to say when she was well and whole in the Hollowed Grounds now.
He stepped forward again, strides threading through the lines already made now by fellow hunters, surveying the scene while his mind procured at others from years ago. [say]“Before the war, the Voice offered the opportunity to those perished to return as Ascended. Many took it up, including Kiada.”[/say] And despite the Sword’s intense and immense hatred for the New God, he’d never begrudge the Harpy for trying to find a way back to all of them. [say]“When the Voice lost, Dygra changed those willing into Ancients.”[/say] Which was how Kiada lived now.
Whether or not she was chasing ghosts, at least she’d know that there had been some ways, alternating in the past, and now presently. [say]“As far as I am aware, Ronin can bring back recently perished, and a revivy feather can do the same.”[/say] But for those long gone, he wasn’t certain anything beyond very creative, if not exploitative, means were available.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-18-2025
[say]"Thank you for telling me,"[/say] I say quietly, not looking up right away. I mean it. That’s not a story people share lightly, and I don’t take it for granted.
I tuck the details away—Kiada, the Voice, Dygra, all of it. It’s not the kind of story that holds answers for me, and I know that the second he finishes. Still, I try not to let the weight of it pull too hard at my chest. I know better than to expect a path back where none was promised.
My dad would’ve come back if he could. That much I believe without doubt. But it’s been three years. There was no Voice whispering offers. No god waiting in the wings. Just a body gone still, a name whispered to the soil. And me, learning how to walk forward without trying to drag him with me.
Still… I don’t want to let go completely. Not yet.
[say]"I don’t know much about Dygra,"[/say] I admit, brushing snow from my sleeve, [say]"just the pieces I’ve heard from the war. Ancient god, took up the ones the Voice left behind."[/say]
I glance over at him, hesitant, but not shy. [say]"Have you ever heard of Mort returning someone long after they’ve been gone? Not just a soul passing through, but actually… bringing them back?"[/say]
I’m bracing for the answer already, but I ask anyway. Some questions deserve to be spoken, even if they hurt.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-18-2025
He waited, though not by glancing back her way. Deimos knew enough of discussions of loss, grief, and death, the hunting for lost souls, to not go staring into it too grimly – he’d lived amidst ghosts and wraiths for a long time, and when that melancholy pulled, it was difficult to find the grace and persistence to linger in the present. He had no desire to return to those miring, clawing efforts, where the sorrow and misery tangled back into his ribs, where the dejection, distress, and agony felt like home, and the cluster of remorse was merely breathing. He’d built walls and towers, fortifications, of peace, of hope, of family and friends, and the only thing that threatened it nowadays was an invading, parasitic Family – but at the very least, it was the bitter rationale of his own mind and memories.
[say]“Nor do I,”[/say] even after these years. But then again, she wasn’t a god he’d stray towards. Then the question came, and he looked up to the boughs and branches, spotting Belial again as he hopped from limb to limb, before placing his gaze on Theea again, a slight wrinkle to his nose. Instead of the habitual no that might have surfaced, he pondered over the circumstances and alterations of the past, present, and future – because nothing ever seemed truly impossible in Caido. [say]“I have heard of Mort bringing back companions. I know Remi can send messages back and forth from those departed, and some can return, at his will, for a certain amount of time. He might know more.”[/say]
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-19-2025
[say]”That’s… more than I expected,”[/say] I say softly, letting the words settle between us like snow. It’s not a promise. It’s not a miracle. But it’s something. Something I can tuck away like a pebble in my pocket—small, heavy, and mine to carry. The idea that Mort brings back companions, at least. That Remi can speak to the dead. That there are still threads out there I haven’t followed yet.
I wonder if Remi would do it—reach out. Just for a moment. Just to see if my father would answer. I’d never ask now. I’m not ready. But maybe one day, if I ever stop being afraid of the answer.
I press my thumb to the edge of the tear in my sleeve again, grounding myself. I glance over at Deimos with a faint smile, apologetic and dry all at once. [say]”Sorry. For getting so personal. I didn’t mean to turn the conversation into… all that.”[/say] I let out a quiet breath. [say]”I’m not great at knowing when to stop talking. Small talk’s never really been my thing.”[/say]
I lift a brow and adopt the flattest tone I can manage, as if to prove just how bad at it I am. [say]”So. Lovely weather. Bit of a chill. Fire’s nice, though. Void beast corpses really pull a landscape together, don’t you think?”[/say] A short grin flickers across my mouth.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-19-2025
Any talk had never really been his thing, but he didn’t say that either. Maybe before wars and death, when he hadn’t been trained or resolved to be guarded, hidden, and fortified. He gave her a slight grin, as if to appease and ease the apprehension in either himself or her, shrugging his shoulders and releasing that bout once more into the ether. In years separating these moments, he wouldn’t have been able to discuss any of it; too raw, too real, too new, too wholly opened once more in lacerations and bruises and scars that refused to ever close. [say]“It is all right. I know how it feels to want answers. Or a way to commit to something.” [/say]Often he could find pathways – sometimes through machinations, others through time and space and the ability to withstand when so many others couldn’t. Patience, he supposed, had hastened many of his rewards and sacrifices.
He ignited a few more leftover corpses, before she started on the drier aspects of intonations. He glanced back over at her, in one of those ‘am I hearing this right’ sort of instances, snorting. Zuriel echoed, but gave the youth far more side-eye, conveying her impressions with a shake of her head and maneuvering several strides away. [say]“I can tell,”[/say] to which he wrinkled his nose, giving her some juvenility over her own. [say]“Have you seen much else of Halo?”[/say] He wouldn't want corpses to be the core memory of this region.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-22-2025
I catch the sound of it—that little snort—and something like triumph flares in my chest.
It’s not a laugh. Not quite. But it’s close enough. From someone like Deimos, it counts. And when he wrinkles his nose at me, like some long-suffering mountain spirit who’s somehow found himself babysitting a particularly chatty squirrel, I can’t help it—I giggle.
Just a little. Quick and quiet. Almost like a kid.
Zuriel’s side-eye earns her a half-bow of apology. I’d curtsy, but I don’t think I’d survive the embarrassment if I slipped on the ice.
When he asks if I’ve seen much of Halo, I nod, brushing a few snowflakes from the edge of my sleeve.
[say]”I’ve seen a fair bit. I’ve been traveling pretty much my whole life, so I’ve passed through before. My mom and I used to have a cabin out that way.”[/say] I gesture south. [say]“We lived there a whole LongHeat once.”[/say]
I pause, eyes skimming the pale stretch of trees and drifting smoke. [say]”It’s always been beautiful. Harsh, but beautiful. I can handle the cold. I just… prefer warmth. Sunlight. Salt air. Places where your wet hair doesn’t freeze if you sleep too close to a window.”[/say]
The memory makes me smile though. [say]”But sledding with mega-fast unicorns? Unmatched. And icicles. I used to collect the long ones and pretend they were daggers. I’m sure if I went back to that old cabin, I’d find a dozen memory snow sculptures still standing out back. Snow foxes. Dragons. Practice dummies.. A very wonky unicorn.”[/say] I give an apologetic smile to Zuriel.
I glance back at him, raising a brow. [say]”Do you do that kind of stuff with your son?”[/say]
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Deimos - 05-23-2025
At least she seemed to understand the more underlying, or overt, depending on whom was asked, notions of Halo. Vast and all-encompassing, beautiful and dangerous, a luring speck of civility laden amidst a horizon destined to make or break. Sometimes that was his favorite part – the way they all to dig in, steadfast and determined amongst a world content with ensuring no one survived. They’d carved their way into the landscape, bit by bit, nudge by nudge, until they’d found methods to truly live. At her descriptions, he grinned, nodding along – even if he’d been born beside the ocean though, he found he could thrive in either climate – but the snow, ice, and rime always called him home.
Zuriel rolled her eyes again, but Deimos didn’t. [say]“The memory snow does encompass some intriguing imaginations. We once had some wander in as dinosaurs.”[/say] As for Erebos, he permitted a further grin. [say]“He will be two in Deepfrost, so not all of that yet. But a good many snowball fights and sledding parties. Only minor dismantling of others’ snowmen.”[/say] He didn’t mention the boys’ first week of life had included attending a tournament or waylaying horrendous meetings. There were better things than the latter.
RE: ghosts of the fallen - Theea - 05-27-2025
[say]"That’s such a good age,"[/say] I add, eyes bright. [say]"They’re all energy and wild logic and sticky hands. I used to babysit whenever I could—odd jobs, here and there. Took care of all kinds of little ones. I loved it."[/say]
I glance away, brushing snow from my jacket sleeve—right over the tear. The old fabric is stiff, but comfortable. I always thought it would get softer over time, but maybe some things just don’t.
[say]"I begged my parents for a sibling once,"[/say] I say with a small laugh, more fond than sad. [say]"Over and over. I had this dream that they’d just show up with one someday like, surprise! Here’s your built-in best friend."[/say] I pause, then shrug. [say]"But they never did. They said Caido wasn’t the kind of world you brought a second child into. They never felt safe enough. And I get it now—more than I did then. But still. I think it takes a lot of hope to do what you did. To look at everything and still bring someone into it."[/say]
I look at him again, a little more serious now. [say]"He’s going to know that. Even if he never says it. Kids are sharper than we give them credit for. He’ll grow up knowing what you protected for him."[/say]