DAMIEN
I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak
I'm angry and I know that's weak
The wind had quieted, but the cold still pressed in from every side like a waiting thing. Most of the Citadel’s stalls sat shuttered, boards nailed down or flaps drawn tight, their merchants having packed up for the season or taken to bartering indoors. Damien didn’t blame them. The open market was a miserable place this time of year.
He knelt beside one of the few open stalls, more of a bench than a shop really, methodically unpacking a bundle of hides. Arctic fox, snow hare, even a black pelt or two. Neatly cured, rough-stitched where needed. The kind of trade Halo still ran on, no matter what the rest of the world thought.
He didn’t call out. Didn’t need to. Anyone looking to buy would see the goods and speak first.
His breath curled pale against the air as he worked, fingers stiff in his gloves. Behind him, the Citadel’s stone walls loomed quiet and grey, casting long shadows across the market square. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed and a gull cried once.
Then: footsteps.
He didn't turn, yet.
He knelt beside one of the few open stalls, more of a bench than a shop really, methodically unpacking a bundle of hides. Arctic fox, snow hare, even a black pelt or two. Neatly cured, rough-stitched where needed. The kind of trade Halo still ran on, no matter what the rest of the world thought.
He didn’t call out. Didn’t need to. Anyone looking to buy would see the goods and speak first.
His breath curled pale against the air as he worked, fingers stiff in his gloves. Behind him, the Citadel’s stone walls loomed quiet and grey, casting long shadows across the market square. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed and a gull cried once.
Then: footsteps.
He didn't turn, yet.
And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek
For whatever it is I seek
