reminiscing endlessly

Deimos The pebbles were eventually consumed by the pool itself, dipping below the water line, before careening back upwards in his restlessness and thoughts. Deimos had multitudes of experience in other worlds – knew the histories and layouts of Isilme, of Helovia, but they were gone; consumed by time, space, and actions of others. But Caido had held different platitudes – souls taken by the Voice and sent here. And while some had committed to her bidding, others, like himself, had done the opposite, and to hear of other moments, far from New Gods, was an opportunity he didn’t take lightly. So he remained still and silent in his crouch again, save for the moving of his gaze back upon the Ancient. Far less interesting earned an arch of his brow, but so did the rest – a larger Climb, expansive, old fashioned manners, a smaller Halo, and not yet wholly ensnared by Eirachi. The Grounds not existing granted a snort – presuming others had eventually flocked there, leading to settlements. “My apologies for the questions. Not many Outlanders get such opportunities,” and he wrinkled his nose, gaze maneuvering upon the rivulets and miniature tides he’d created. “What about Torchline?” Or the Greatwood – though Deimos could imagine that must’ve always been much the same; inhabited by Fae who would do everything in their power to protect it. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime