DEIMOS
The Sword had known what it was like to be nomadic – though his had always been more towards the refugee inclinations, when the Edge had lost their home to war, when invasions had forced them to linger within icy caves, forging perseverance, calculations, and maelstroms. He’d learned quickly how to adhere to the mountain landscape, how to alter, how to change, how to adapt, even if sometimes it was slowly – and this had been one of those moments too, sprung and stung and strung together out of happenstance, circumstances, and loss. But they could equally find triumph out of those notions, out of those hellholes, and he tried to stay above it, rising from ashes, from consuming, threatening tethers, from the lines that spelled doom, sorrow, and desolation. So he snagged and grabbed, permitted the slightest bit of avarice to pierce through his soul, to remain afloat, to be something more, and not infinitely less.Maybe Halo would be enough. Maybe he would be enough. Maybe they would all come together to be better, stronger, and determined facets in a world only surrounded by challenges.
Deimos waited for Aisha’s reaction, eyes lifting back to the Palace. The Basin had never constructed something so decadent or ostentatious, but it seemed to be the only building here signifying a regime, a seat of power. “The Warden, Morgan.” He wasn’t certain who else occupied the massive structure; perhaps other council members, perhaps staff, perhaps no one. “She is also of a military mind.” Kinship in warriors, which Aisha could likely appreciate. His gaze went to the buildings surrounding the icy, glacial structure, pointing to each in turn. “The Arcane Academy, supposedly for magic users to train.” He’d never gone, and had no intentions, not with Zariah’s ilk and name already long-established over its contortions. Half-tempted to burn it down, if he was being honest. Fighting off a snarl at the outpost, he gestured to the more modest edifice. “The Council Hall,” which the spitfire could likely ascertain the purpose for herself, and then his head nodded towards the final one. “And the barracks.”
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
