Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Deimos released a long, slow breath again, nodding at the insinuations. While he wouldn’t reveal everything, likely because they solely mattered to him, and he’d never do the same to Kiada, he allowed a small smile. “A release, I think, from all the guilt I had been holding,” he expressed; because that was one more burden no longer tied and tethered to his shoulders – liberated by the Penumbra, the only one he’d allow to pull those knots. Others could’ve said multitudes and it wouldn’t have mattered – not until the one who’d perished upon that horrendous LongNight offered the deliverance. Disentangled and gnarled and then gone again was a strange circumstance for the Sword, who held onto his remorse and sins as if they were a very part of his foundation.Erebos tucked himself into his father’s elbow, and the Warden waited for Kiada’s response. He wasn’t certain if it pressed into boundaries they didn’t want at the wedding – ultimately up to them on how far they let the ghosts stretch and unfurl. “True. You would have quite a few to bring,” he remarked; a tease to go with the sorrow as well. Ru’in, Bastien, Rexanna…and still more after that.
