and the only solution was to stand and fight
Between searching for Ru and tending to everything else with Halo or his own family, the letter he’d received the day before had been a shocking one. He couldn’t quite fathom why; he’d certainly encountered death and loss a hundred times over in various ways – war made the gestures nearly simplistic, despite the barbarity, the cruelty, and the depths of despair associated. Perhaps because Rhiannon’s had been purely incidental and accidental – just a soldier on duty, trying to break up a fight. Deimos had figured if he and several other Shields went to great lengths, they’d be able to discover who or why it occurred (and in some part of his mind, it’d be retribution to a friend gone, because he had naught else to give). Instead, it’d been a host of dead ends and loose threads, and it’d likely take several more interims to unravel the knot. For now, he’d placed more guards (the ones not to so close to her) in those sections, with every intention of later ripping out the seedier bars. No need to repeat.
Standing amidst the intended funeral pyre again made his jaw clench, piercing eyes going towards her still form. Grief was just a part of him as so many other elements; stoicism another. His solemnity would go further, out of the public eye, when everything didn’t seem too muddled and conflicting. He took a deep breath and watched the crowd, towering over most as they ambled around, extending their woes and apologies to Rhiannon’s family. He could go over there too, but it seemed crowded, and the last thing he wanted to do was render attention upon himself.
Instead, his brow arched as he watched the Keeper of the First Flame. This one was new, a replacement since the elder had passed on too, likely her own family member. Sighing, and wondering if he should introduce himself, he started with a low rumble. “Sorry to hear about your loss,” he offered in polite accord. Granting a long pause in between, and striving to decipher a whole host of patterns and complexities, he tilted his head. “Did you know her?” he jutted his jawline towards Rhiannon’s form; pondering if she was here strictly for the rites, or like many of them, the unfortunate wake of another perished.
Standing amidst the intended funeral pyre again made his jaw clench, piercing eyes going towards her still form. Grief was just a part of him as so many other elements; stoicism another. His solemnity would go further, out of the public eye, when everything didn’t seem too muddled and conflicting. He took a deep breath and watched the crowd, towering over most as they ambled around, extending their woes and apologies to Rhiannon’s family. He could go over there too, but it seemed crowded, and the last thing he wanted to do was render attention upon himself.
Instead, his brow arched as he watched the Keeper of the First Flame. This one was new, a replacement since the elder had passed on too, likely her own family member. Sighing, and wondering if he should introduce himself, he started with a low rumble. “Sorry to hear about your loss,” he offered in polite accord. Granting a long pause in between, and striving to decipher a whole host of patterns and complexities, he tilted his head. “Did you know her?” he jutted his jawline towards Rhiannon’s form; pondering if she was here strictly for the rites, or like many of them, the unfortunate wake of another perished.
DEIMOS
