The Demi god follows Sam dutifully, jumping over the same small fissures and avoiding the same gouts of heat. ”I assume that’s what it is.” Really, they’re not sure, but it makes the most sense, considering the difference between Halo’s tundras and thes emlten plains. ”It may... shift, randomly. Fix itself.”
”Stories?” Osozo’s head cocks to the side, a curious tilt to their head. ”What have you heard?” They’re about to ask more, mouth already open when a crackle flickers across their vision, and the violently warm colours shift into a far more natural palette, no cooler than the heat vision had been. ”My vision is normal again!” They announce almost eagerly? Before glancing around with no small amount of sudden trepidation.
OSOZO
The touch and gaze of those to whom we are less than nothing
