who we are and all that we're trying to be
An astounding level of benedictions appeared to be heading his way – and Deimos couldn’t quite fathom or understand it. Perhaps he never would; eternally determined to be immersed in a low contingent of self-worth. This time though Oliver hovered in the background, a wave extended in his direction, an arch to the Sword’s brow the only thing resembling bewilderment or confusion. There were a few passing acknowledgments extended to others, like Maea, a courteous bob of his head, before his own nod beckoned Oliver towards him, to be situated and placed within the circle of compassion and friends. “Oliver,” he extended on rumbling measures, uncertain if there was something the younger man wanted, or needed to say, his arms and hands full of extensions and bestowals (something never in the realm of possibilities – cherished, beloved things, befuddled to be somewhere in the center of it all).
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
