[Training] a flammable place

DEIMOS

The Sword took to his usual route of melancholic dwelling upon a subject as his long limbs carried him through the hustle and bustle of the crowd. He maneuvered on muscle memory, steering clear of smaller individuals or towering above them with little effort, passing through as if mere shadow. Even as he glanced through goods not much struck his interest, and not enough to persuade him to mull over properties, aesthetics, or elements; the dream within the Peepholes a little too scattered and beholden within his mind.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been occupied by those mental fragments from slumber. Safrin had delivered warnings within them on several occasions, and he’d dispersed the information necessary when war was on the horizon. But this, with such few images and stranger depictions, had no foothold or understanding meshing through his mind. Uncertain if he’d simply have to coerce himself into thinking it was merely illusions of the mind and nothing more, or if there were further intrigues to peel apart, he sighed, heaving a breath before shaking his head and motioning towards the next stall.

From there, and perhaps because he was striving to push it to the back of his mind, he acquired several treats for the family, bartering with a few contorted creations from his bag.

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

SUNJATA

the flood

Having not been a part of the dream sequence that the adventure into the Peepholes had, Sunjata was somewhat familiar with the bits and pieces Melita had strewn together for him. But it hadn’t been enough to occupy his thoughts more fully, not as he drifts along Torchline’s bustling city. Indulging in the warmth and lack of snow, the brine scent on the air, the variety of people simply just living or visiting and intermingled in a perfect tourist trap that he’d been familiar with from when he’d ruled here.

Half amused to watch the seen, though, he sees a familiar face slip through and head toward the stalls, Sunjata finds himself following a short distance as Deimos stops at a stall and snags some goodies for himself, bartering with an old sun faced merchant in particular when Sunjata sidles up beside him. “Hey, how’s it going?” He asks, shooting a lopsided smile to Deimos in greeting.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?

DEIMOS

He’d heard another approach, but presuming it was one more inevitably vying for some coveted ware, he hadn’t bothered to glance up from his perusals until the voice slid his way. Turning his head to see Sunjata, he granted a nod, rolling his shoulders and handing over a particular toy he thought Erebos might like to the merchant. “Decent. Was just finding some things for my family.” Pausing, then stepping away once he’d made his purchase, his thoughts circumvented towards what had been occupying his mind beforehand. “Yourself?”

It took him more than a moment to finally give it voice though, biding his time as the King’s End leader conducted his business. The inquiry bounding through his mind might’ve at once sounded foolish or bizarre, but given how often both of them were in the thick of things, perhaps the question wouldn’t have been too off-base and foreign. “Were you in the gathering at the Peepholes? The one with all the light?”

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

SUNJATA

the flood

Watching the toy be handed off and exchanged, Sunjata nods to hear that was the intention of the Warden before the question is turned onto himself. “Just enjoying some warmth before heading back home.” He admits, his smile a touch lopsided for the not great reasoning of being in Torchline, especially when the possibility of running into Hotaru was higher being here given Flora’s residence.

But then, it seems like Deimos is a bit lost in his thoughts, and when the question comes Sunjata straightens up, brows pinching a bit as he looks over at Halo’s Warden. “I was, yeah. But I didn’t fall asleep. Did you?” He asks, not really ashamed for his nosiness, especially as he gives Deimos a more attentive look, as if trying to understand whether or not Deimos had and what he might have heard or seen.

did you get out all of that angry passion?
is it still formin'? Has it started to torture you?