Theea
and that was how i learned to live
when you can run but you can't hide
when you can run but you can't hide
I don’t come to Halo for sword lessons or to loiter around my best friend today. I come because I can feel the many lines from then to now—and there’s a man at the end of one who keeps nudging me forward when tell him I can't quite figure out where my feet belong.
The cold bites as I cross the square, breath going pale. Smoke rises in a steady ribbon and the smell of burgers punches through the frost—grease and spice and something warm enough to make my stomach make a very undignified sound. Apparently, legends like cookouts. I smile into my scarf.
Kiosks crowd around the makeshift grill, and I spot him at the hub of it: the Warden, sleeves pushed, easy-laughing between orders while Erebos sits with swinging legs and a strip of jerky that looks half his size. I tuck the strap of my bag tighter against my side, wait for that small seam in the moment…and then I step in.
"Deimos!"
It comes out bright with a matching smile. I slide the bag off my shoulder and hold it out rather than explain myself too soon. "I was looking for you at the guildhall and I was told to find you here.". I tip my chin toward Erebos and give him a wave, crinkling my nose in hello.
If he opens it here, he’ll find the stuffed little dragon first—white and pale yellow, the horns a touch crooked, wings a little lopsided. It’s not perfect, but it’s soft. After making the blanket for Maea, I got adventurous. Beneath that there’s a smaller bundle, and inside that a charm on a loop: a tiny golden sun with a couple of seashells I pocketed on a walk and the smallest hagstone I’ve ever found, no bigger than my thumb. It looks like something my mom or my nonna would hang from a doorway.
I rock back on my heels, suddenly aware of the heat coming off the grill and the way my fingers have gone prickly with thawing. "I know you don’t need a stuffed dragon, but—" I glance at Erebos, deadpan for half a beat. "—consider it competition." The corner of my mouth ticks up. "And the charm’s for a weapon! Or maybe a doorway."
I glance around sheepishly. "Need help with anything?"
The cold bites as I cross the square, breath going pale. Smoke rises in a steady ribbon and the smell of burgers punches through the frost—grease and spice and something warm enough to make my stomach make a very undignified sound. Apparently, legends like cookouts. I smile into my scarf.
Kiosks crowd around the makeshift grill, and I spot him at the hub of it: the Warden, sleeves pushed, easy-laughing between orders while Erebos sits with swinging legs and a strip of jerky that looks half his size. I tuck the strap of my bag tighter against my side, wait for that small seam in the moment…and then I step in.
"Deimos!"
It comes out bright with a matching smile. I slide the bag off my shoulder and hold it out rather than explain myself too soon. "I was looking for you at the guildhall and I was told to find you here.". I tip my chin toward Erebos and give him a wave, crinkling my nose in hello.
If he opens it here, he’ll find the stuffed little dragon first—white and pale yellow, the horns a touch crooked, wings a little lopsided. It’s not perfect, but it’s soft. After making the blanket for Maea, I got adventurous. Beneath that there’s a smaller bundle, and inside that a charm on a loop: a tiny golden sun with a couple of seashells I pocketed on a walk and the smallest hagstone I’ve ever found, no bigger than my thumb. It looks like something my mom or my nonna would hang from a doorway.
I rock back on my heels, suddenly aware of the heat coming off the grill and the way my fingers have gone prickly with thawing. "I know you don’t need a stuffed dragon, but—" I glance at Erebos, deadpan for half a beat. "—consider it competition." The corner of my mouth ticks up. "And the charm’s for a weapon! Or maybe a doorway."
I glance around sheepishly. "Need help with anything?"
how to feel trapped in a tunnel
but come out the other side
but come out the other side
