Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
The snow crunched underneath his boots and footfalls, solid and compacted, as he placed the bundle on the deck of the house, and waited for her to do the same, before they returned to the sled for another round. Mulling over the complexities of building from the ground up still seemed vastly overwhelming – imagining feeble tents on the outskirts of a poisonous sanction, and trying to force it to become a sanctity. “I think you would be surprised how quickly you can get some houses raised with enough people,” some within a day or two, depending on the amount of individuals, capabilities, and supplies. But there were so many steps in between that it probably seemed insurmountable on the worst days, and he didn’t envy her predicament, chosen and bold as it had been. However, there were things she could accomplish with citizens and helpers, rather than using her two opportunities a year to muster possibilities with divine beings and endless power. “Seems like something else you could ask the gods for,” in reference to the fireproofing, though he had no doubt that her list of needs from said heralds and deities was growing by the day. Tugging at the sled and maneuvering it along the pathway, and ignoring Belial’s loud, intentional chomps of meat, he considered other portions. “What about water resources?” He’d been there on some iterations where the sky had simply opened up – a grand omen for the occasion, but he could fathom it didn’t happen with great frequency. Maybe they’d already encountered and solved that problem though, or she’d seen to it by other logistics and means.
