always prepared

Deimos The monolith's vigilant stare roamed down the vast array of stalls still left to peruse. The beast believed she’d hold a unique foundation on his inquiry; and she’d also been immersed in the Temple, seen the damage, seen the cost. For a moment he said nothing at all, uncertain how to broach the subject without making matters worse, and he’d never been gifted in the measures of discourse. The Sword could understand armaments, could comprehend the swing of a blade, but words were more difficult to parse through, left vulnerabilities and weaknesses out into the air. He didn’t yield to its power as much as incantations or cutlasses, couldn’t bend it so easily. Maybe that was why politics, no matter how much he found himself embedded into them, had never been his forte either. He’d much rather spend days along battlefields, amongst training crowds, comfortable in the precision and weight of his armory. Eventually, his eyes lingered back down upon her, and then away, to the horizon. “I have considered destroying the door,” and he figured she’d know exactly which one he meant. “In case it fell into the wrong hands.” He wouldn’t insult her intelligence; presumed she could parse through which individuals could utilize it for further destruction and mayhem. “What is your stance?” To have it rendered and taken apart, burned, for all the regrets, death, it had already caused? Or to find another use – ones he’d already rendered within his mind – instead of forgoing potential? Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime