DEIMOS
Other than his usual helpful tendencies (now if that was a sentence framed from the Reaper, someone would likely ask if he was feeling all right), nostalgia and Hotaru brought him towards Snowcloak. Hot springs were the ultimate enticement, figments and fragments of the Aurora Basin clambering along meticulous, scrupulous ruminations – memories of after battles, of relaxation and healing wounds, of something beyond invasions, tactics, and devastation. He followed, bringing his own bag of tools, breathing in the mountain air, the age-old brandishings of something that reminded him of home; granting Weaver an arched brow and a nod, but a makeshift grin at the corners of his mouth too. His eyes riveted back to Hotaru a moment later, the teasing and taunting layered within – too much like sibling manifestations, despite all the wars and tragedies layered between them. “What first?”
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
