The familiar distaste crept behind his teeth. He’d made the same errors with Ru; disparaging the Flood (for multitudes of reasons – and rightly so, he’d still argue to this day), and pulling at the rifts between them. To imagine someone leaving Halo because of Talyson struck him as bizarre. Deimos wouldn’t follow the Courier to a pub, much less across lands. Why anyone would find the man remarkable and worth leaving their home for was even more confounding and bewildering. And though he wondered if Alys would hold the same opinion on the fool if she ever found out what he said about Evie, the Sword kept it to himself. It wasn’t worth the fraught and tenuous parallels again.
Refraining from saying something like ‘ew’ or ‘gross’, he simply sighed, toying with another portion of cheese, before turning towards the stove top and readying a kettle full of water. “Understandable,” he uttered. Even if he’d never done the same – because the way his loyalty warded away was through roots and mettle, working things through – he recalled the similar conversations with the Valkyrie. And maybe it was hard to hear that it wouldn’t have mattered at all.
Setting the device down to boil, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, mulling over exactly what to say. His features remained purposefully inscrutable, the long breath withheld and extended perhaps the only thing to display he was biding and choosing his words carefully. “You are forgiven,” because it wouldn’t much do for a grudge here and now, and he had no quarrel with Alys – just, perhaps, the way they’d been treated. Striving to surmise other notions, he tilted his head, studying the plate of food, then Erebos, before flicking his eyes back to her. “What stopped you from telling us?”
Refraining from saying something like ‘ew’ or ‘gross’, he simply sighed, toying with another portion of cheese, before turning towards the stove top and readying a kettle full of water. “Understandable,” he uttered. Even if he’d never done the same – because the way his loyalty warded away was through roots and mettle, working things through – he recalled the similar conversations with the Valkyrie. And maybe it was hard to hear that it wouldn’t have mattered at all.
Setting the device down to boil, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, mulling over exactly what to say. His features remained purposefully inscrutable, the long breath withheld and extended perhaps the only thing to display he was biding and choosing his words carefully. “You are forgiven,” because it wouldn’t much do for a grudge here and now, and he had no quarrel with Alys – just, perhaps, the way they’d been treated. Striving to surmise other notions, he tilted his head, studying the plate of food, then Erebos, before flicking his eyes back to her. “What stopped you from telling us?”
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
