until my dying day

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Zuriel worked and Deimos guarded, his eyes flickering back and forth from the rush of chaos near the gates, and the owl being mended. He knew what it meant to feel foolish and inept, to rush into something with all the intent, purpose, and drive in the world, and for it to go horribly awry. Another sigh flickered through him, and he shook his head. You do not need to apologize. I think all of Halo appreciates you trying. Because it took some steadfast notions, all embroiled in the folly and rashness. But sometimes, we have to acknowledge when we are not ready. A lesson he’d learned in caves and Spires, in poisonous air and fumes and fire, in nearly dying multiple times across multiple lands. And while he wouldn’t wish it on most, out here in the frozen world, they were difficult, and often painful, reminders of how Caido could blend wisdom and sagacity into incautious efforts. Or that we have to take our time. Whether or not he was speaking to the current notions, or her plans for revolution, went unsaid. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace