[SE] For all of us

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame His brow arched at the tale; eyes flickering in the direction of the Tundra again. Deimos often saw ghosts, in his head, in his memories, in the wake of past lives gone and merged. But he hadn’t heard the whispers across the midnight howls; only tasted freedom, liberation, amongst their roaring manifests. Maybe he wasn’t listening for them either. “There will always be hungry people,” he started, a grin at first, though made to quirk in mischief, rather than horror. “For what, remains ever a possibility.” Power and glory, pillaging and plundering, for peace and prosperity, or nothing more than food – the preferences wide and uncertain. Glancing back at Marcus, the brow still lifted in either jest or fellow conspiracy, purposefully, intentionally enigmatic. “Have you heard any?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace