we fight for brighter, stronger skies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Finalizing the last lines of several letters that had volleyed back and forth throughout the week, Deimos sighed, very close to simply putting his head down on the desk and staying very still for multitudes of time. The pressure and stress mounted and weighed, layered across his shoulders again like some kind of noose, but – there was Erebos, giggling and drawing wayward lines on a piece of paper, and no amount of opportunities to savor the moments again. Taking a deep breath instead of wallowing or shutting down, he gazed upon his son’s spectacle. “That is quite something. Do we want to save it for later? We need to go meet someone.” Erebos, ever agreeable because he hadn’t yet reached discordant days, gave a pleasant “Okay!” before Deimos hastened him back into snowsuits and hats and gloves, and they began to shuffle off down the lane towards the Citadel’s shrine. The Sword wasn’t without his own machinations tucked away into his pockets, intending to pass information along to the Tidebreaker. So upon their slower approach, due to the youth’s strides, when Deimos spotted the Torchline King nearby, he offered his residual low, rumbling tones. “Hadama,” at which point Erebos granted a jubilant and cheerful wave. “Hi!” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace