[Training] but not muted

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

Stretching, he’d been content with the masquerade itself – relatively ignored and detached from the rest of the world – a miniature vacation of his own favored accord. Sometimes he liked to believe he’d seen enough of people for centuries; at least, the ones that weren’t in his favored cluster and coil – or that they’d learned to leave him well enough and alone. Maybe both could be correct. Evie probably wouldn’t be impressed he hadn’t talked to anyone within the party, but the Sword would count it as a new personal record he hadn’t been able to achieve in years.

The evening dwindled; eaves of lanterns drifting down the Bodega lanes as the markets remained open for a little while longer. He stifled some modest yawn and contemplated the distance between here and home, calculating hours in between the Greatwood and Halo with wings unfurled and a mission in mind. He’d long since pushed his mask on the top of his head, making the appearance of a hellhound’s face gesturing to the moon and the sky, loosened the robes, and only made some justifiable rounds down the stretch of stalls and kiosks so he might bring some other goods back for his family. So long strides loosened down the boardwalk avenues, eyes keen and aware, tracing over wares and granting small nods of his head to the Fae workers.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I