Deimos
It was habitual, to place that mask right over his features and pretend, absorbed in nonchalance. Except this was his child, and there were only so many things he could hide for so long. Idalia was an excuse, but not the end-all, be-all, there were certainly other things churning and lingering and at no point did he want Erebos to be in the middle of it. He’d been small, an infant, when the Family had started gathering, and Deimos and Evie had been able to tuck him away in a safety net of Halo, behind all the defenses and shields they could muster while the Sword battled and fought, bled and tried.
But now Deimos wanted to protect him from things that he couldn’t even explain, and there was a hard line between ignorance and too much knowledge. No throwing a child to the wolves, but not wanting him to live amidst endless curiosity and an open world to get lost within. They’d had many a discussion about where and when and how; and even then, it wasn’t that simple. He would have to be careful, in so many walks, edges, and fringes.
Though first, the elephant in the room. He granted a very loud snort at the youth’s statement, moving over enough so Erebos could tuck himself within the chair and stare over the masses of paper. “Not even remotely true. You were also very loud,” and one hand went to his son’s hair, ruffing it so it was a fluffy mass. “Still are.”
But then he was staring down a precipice and he sighed, head tilting, wanting to tuck Erebos under his chin and leave the discussion there. Instead, he granted fragments, leaving some out until he had more to offer. “Peepholes with golden light. Monsters in the desert. Sand. Weird dreams and visions.”
But now Deimos wanted to protect him from things that he couldn’t even explain, and there was a hard line between ignorance and too much knowledge. No throwing a child to the wolves, but not wanting him to live amidst endless curiosity and an open world to get lost within. They’d had many a discussion about where and when and how; and even then, it wasn’t that simple. He would have to be careful, in so many walks, edges, and fringes.
Though first, the elephant in the room. He granted a very loud snort at the youth’s statement, moving over enough so Erebos could tuck himself within the chair and stare over the masses of paper. “Not even remotely true. You were also very loud,” and one hand went to his son’s hair, ruffing it so it was a fluffy mass. “Still are.”
But then he was staring down a precipice and he sighed, head tilting, wanting to tuck Erebos under his chin and leave the discussion there. Instead, he granted fragments, leaving some out until he had more to offer. “Peepholes with golden light. Monsters in the desert. Sand. Weird dreams and visions.”
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
