A joy hard-learned in winter was the warming of the bed
You'd shake for minutes there and move your legs
You'd shake for minutes there and move your legs
It was a bad time to visit Halo. The worst time, inarguably. And yet here Koa is, freezing his dick off in the Deepfrost chill, his flannel and peacoat and hat and scarf not enough to keep his teeth from chattering hard enough it makes his vision blur. He'd thought, as a Breaker, that he would be prepared for winter - that growing up with his own wicked winter would have hardened him against Halo's icy caress.
Boy, had he been wrong.
Still the young man trudges on, up the Citadel steps. He's come to this place to talk to the Warden, that legend, hero of the boy's youth. He'd heard about Sohalia's visit, the misgivings that the leadership of Halo voiced about the Dragoon's sordid past. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, he figured, one soldier to another. One step at a time.
At last he reaches his destination, pushing past a growing crowd and to a looming form. Deimos presides over an efficient assembly line like a captain at a ship, his figure almost more imposing than the tales led to believe. Koa finds himself swallowing nerves, fixing his coat and unwinding his scarf as he draws nearer. At least it's warmer inside, warm enough his teeth no longer chatter, though a flush still paints his ears.
"Warden Ignatius, sir!" The boy offers a smart salute, copper eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement at the prospect of meeting this man. Setting into an at-ease stance, he offers his hand to the other man. "Koa Carpenter, of the Dragoons. A few of my soldiers and I thought we might come offer our services, as Halo readies for LongNight. Not that you need help-- but if there's anything we can do..." He trails off with a self-conscious laugh, suddenly feeling very small and a little bit a fool.
Boy, had he been wrong.
Still the young man trudges on, up the Citadel steps. He's come to this place to talk to the Warden, that legend, hero of the boy's youth. He'd heard about Sohalia's visit, the misgivings that the leadership of Halo voiced about the Dragoon's sordid past. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, he figured, one soldier to another. One step at a time.
At last he reaches his destination, pushing past a growing crowd and to a looming form. Deimos presides over an efficient assembly line like a captain at a ship, his figure almost more imposing than the tales led to believe. Koa finds himself swallowing nerves, fixing his coat and unwinding his scarf as he draws nearer. At least it's warmer inside, warm enough his teeth no longer chatter, though a flush still paints his ears.
"Warden Ignatius, sir!" The boy offers a smart salute, copper eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement at the prospect of meeting this man. Setting into an at-ease stance, he offers his hand to the other man. "Koa Carpenter, of the Dragoons. A few of my soldiers and I thought we might come offer our services, as Halo readies for LongNight. Not that you need help-- but if there's anything we can do..." He trails off with a self-conscious laugh, suddenly feeling very small and a little bit a fool.
Koa Carpenter
Wrap the blanket over you and keep your head within
Let your breath heat the air until you'd feel it getting thin
Let your breath heat the air until you'd feel it getting thin
