tide up with work

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us The last thing he expected from the ocean were warm, inviting waters; perhaps so used to the cold, cutting edges of Halo’s borders, or the usual fractious ways Caido operated – always something potentially coming to snag and toil and corrupt. When naught surfaced but the gentle, easygoing streamline along the beach, the beast snorted, even lowering himself to drag thunderbird talons through the waves and the currents. But then there were ships, hordes upon hordes of them, dotted across the horizon. The shapes and sizes differed, from larger, merchant ships likely carrying necessary cargo to inevitable lands, to smaller vessels, teetering along with miniature sails, trying to snag at the wind. Still, with so many lingering below, Deimos made sure to fly far higher, to look like just a much larger bird than what the expanse of his form truly entailed. I have not seen so many in one place, he murmured to Sunjata, eyes narrowing, watching the smaller portions below. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left