Noah
Once Deimos arrived, Noah let himself bend into the feeling of being lighter. He was glad that the original maker of the barracks had come, that the once-general would be able to fill them in with as much knowledge and skill as they needed, but even more so he was glad his friend was here. What is it? He asked, just as Fox arrived.
That same gladness transferred when Fox came. He nearly sighed in relief, but Fox's words gave him push towards a deeper resolve. He didn't need Fox falling into a stasis while they stood here and talked, that was certain. Nodding to his friends, Noah detailed their first task.
The armory, situated within the heart of the barracks, was the first focus of his evaluation. Its shelves were lined with weapons, armor, and supplies, but all were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. He envisioned additional storage for ammunition, weaponry, and reinforced security measures to safeguard these vital assets. All of it made him pang for the home he knew in Halo and for Deimos' armaments.
"Deimos, can you create a storage place that locks while Fox and I clean up the area?
Round one! Fox and Noah clean, Deimos create a locking storage area for weapons and ammo and the like!
That same gladness transferred when Fox came. He nearly sighed in relief, but Fox's words gave him push towards a deeper resolve. He didn't need Fox falling into a stasis while they stood here and talked, that was certain. Nodding to his friends, Noah detailed their first task.
The armory, situated within the heart of the barracks, was the first focus of his evaluation. Its shelves were lined with weapons, armor, and supplies, but all were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. He envisioned additional storage for ammunition, weaponry, and reinforced security measures to safeguard these vital assets. All of it made him pang for the home he knew in Halo and for Deimos' armaments.
"Deimos, can you create a storage place that locks while Fox and I clean up the area?
Round one! Fox and Noah clean, Deimos create a locking storage area for weapons and ammo and the like!
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
And detached as boats to the dock?
