In my stomach is butterflies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He nodded, figuring she wouldn’t need a tour then. Most of Halo was self-explanatory and self-sufficient, meant to be a reliable source of community, protection, and civilization. Fire was plentiful, food could be stored easily, and the power of the merchants, trappers, hunters, healers, and soldiers was a unit of capability enhanced by the firm sense of preservation. Taking a piece of the scone while it was still warm, he watched and waited for other reactions. The Outlander one was usually a mixed reception – years before, it had been met with animosity and neutrality at best. Nowadays, it was more of a rarity than anything else – given how many of them had disappeared, perished, or simply remained outnumbered by Naturals. And perhaps it didn’t matter much in the long run; they’d assimilated as a whole into Caido’s rankings. When there weren’t any more lingering inquiries, he swallowed down the dessert, listening to the other responses. No real commitment to any one place or more was intriguing; a more nomadic lifestyle. Deimos was the type to settle roots, unless there were other commitments or actions causing a disruption. The notions about LongNight though had him distracted from any other nuances, and he nodded. “I have started some myself. Typically, we carry on our normal routines, as it is nothing like what the Grounds used to experience. We usually supply those who require it some extra wood and food.” His eyes glanced upward, pondering over storage. “Will you be needing some?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace