DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
Patience was one of his few virtues, and so he vaguely tilted his head as the siblings seemed to be surprised or bewildered, strung together into silence for a few moments more. But this would not be the first, nor the last unfortunately, where another had given great pause after his name – especially since the war – and he wasn’t certain he liked it. Never one for craving or yearning recognition and attention, the Sword was far more content tending to the shadows, or quietly training his warriors; leadership had ensured that wasn’t going to happen for a while. So he muffled a sigh in his chest, ignoring a few vacant chortles, patted a familiar individual’s shoulder nearby, and went out the door as soon as the agreement hastened through.
Venturing out into the sanction of the Citadel was more his style, and he pocketed the notes taken, eyes going to the horizon, chin rising at the bountiful wind contorting down the alley. Waiting for the others to follow, he matched his pace to theirs, though noting the brother seemed to have gone quiet. “You are welcome.” Treating visitors with some air of reception, and healthy suspicion and skepticism, had been a work in progress. But this also gave him an opportunity to avoid paperwork.
The series of non-questions caused another brow arch, uncertain where the notations were going, until they seemed to finalize on…Halo itself. Not a customary inquiry made by strangers, but certainly something he’d answered before. Stifling a snort, or a chuckle, he gazed out along the streets, leading them down one path. “The people and the landscape.” The former for their hardiness, and the latter for its beauty, danger, and aloofness. Considering turnabout was fair play, the Sword’s attention meandered to both strangers. “Where are you from?”
Venturing out into the sanction of the Citadel was more his style, and he pocketed the notes taken, eyes going to the horizon, chin rising at the bountiful wind contorting down the alley. Waiting for the others to follow, he matched his pace to theirs, though noting the brother seemed to have gone quiet. “You are welcome.” Treating visitors with some air of reception, and healthy suspicion and skepticism, had been a work in progress. But this also gave him an opportunity to avoid paperwork.
The series of non-questions caused another brow arch, uncertain where the notations were going, until they seemed to finalize on…Halo itself. Not a customary inquiry made by strangers, but certainly something he’d answered before. Stifling a snort, or a chuckle, he gazed out along the streets, leading them down one path. “The people and the landscape.” The former for their hardiness, and the latter for its beauty, danger, and aloofness. Considering turnabout was fair play, the Sword’s attention meandered to both strangers. “Where are you from?”
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
