Deimos
By the time evening had come, with its dusky hollows piercing over the horizon, the temporary Warden had settled squabble after squabble, petty quarrel after petty quarrel, and then sunk his head into the surface of his desk. His preferences would’ve been to not be immersed in his office at all, and more than once he’d watched others from the window, considering launching himself from its sanction and flying off, to be left undisturbed for more than fifteen minutes. Or to go bludgeon something until it was rendered into shards and fragments.
Deciding the current hour was sufficient enough to call it a day, responsibilities finished, the Sword slid out of his office, and then the council hall. The intentions were to head directly towards the barracks and hide in the training grounds, but a moment of juvenile tendencies persuaded him otherwise. The sleds outside the Shields’ sanction, collected from his frequent hunting trips, had been left to merely remain there until the next session and season. It would be a shame for them to go to waste.
He straightened his shoulders, dragged them by their strings, and got to work.
Further along the corner of the Citadel, where there’d be an area suitable, the beast began threading and orchestrating through his machinations. Perhaps some would consider them ridiculous and infantile. Perhaps some would ignore them entirely. But for those who wanted to be unburdened for half a moment, including himself, the parameters would be there.
He first began by moving the snow, pushing, pulling, and piling given the incantations of Air, Earth, and Water, until they assembled accordingly, dragging out into a sloping hill similar to the one he’d contorted within the outer regions of the training grounds. Except this one was far more massive, far more appealing for another recreational amusement, and by the time he’d finished applying the enchantments, he’d already had a crowd of onlookers standing nearby. Curiosity might’ve compelled, or they thought the Sword had lost his mind and were waiting to see the end result. Taking an instant to breathe, to manage, to muster more strength, he coordinated the citizens’ efforts, sending them for tables, drinks, and to pass the word along about the upcoming merriments.
Something light-hearted, when they were closed off from the rest of the world.
By the time he’d finished rounding the slope, placing some rails so no one fell completely off the side, and some orchestrations of ramps to meander upwards, those he’d sent off had done exactly as he’d asked. Down below the fanfare, little kiosks, stalls, and tables had been set up with hot chocolate and steaming cider, several varieties of meat from successful hunting ventures, and other snacks. Fires and torches burned, lighting pathways, orchestrating signals.
The final touches were the sleds, and he hauled them over (after wiping any remaining blood off of them), intending to allow anyone who wanted them to utilize them for the sheer essence of fun.
--
It’s a Halo sledding party! Come join and have a good time – open for anyone!
Deimos has sleds available for use, and there’s stalls and tables with food, hot chocolate, and cider.
Deciding the current hour was sufficient enough to call it a day, responsibilities finished, the Sword slid out of his office, and then the council hall. The intentions were to head directly towards the barracks and hide in the training grounds, but a moment of juvenile tendencies persuaded him otherwise. The sleds outside the Shields’ sanction, collected from his frequent hunting trips, had been left to merely remain there until the next session and season. It would be a shame for them to go to waste.
He straightened his shoulders, dragged them by their strings, and got to work.
Further along the corner of the Citadel, where there’d be an area suitable, the beast began threading and orchestrating through his machinations. Perhaps some would consider them ridiculous and infantile. Perhaps some would ignore them entirely. But for those who wanted to be unburdened for half a moment, including himself, the parameters would be there.
He first began by moving the snow, pushing, pulling, and piling given the incantations of Air, Earth, and Water, until they assembled accordingly, dragging out into a sloping hill similar to the one he’d contorted within the outer regions of the training grounds. Except this one was far more massive, far more appealing for another recreational amusement, and by the time he’d finished applying the enchantments, he’d already had a crowd of onlookers standing nearby. Curiosity might’ve compelled, or they thought the Sword had lost his mind and were waiting to see the end result. Taking an instant to breathe, to manage, to muster more strength, he coordinated the citizens’ efforts, sending them for tables, drinks, and to pass the word along about the upcoming merriments.
Something light-hearted, when they were closed off from the rest of the world.
By the time he’d finished rounding the slope, placing some rails so no one fell completely off the side, and some orchestrations of ramps to meander upwards, those he’d sent off had done exactly as he’d asked. Down below the fanfare, little kiosks, stalls, and tables had been set up with hot chocolate and steaming cider, several varieties of meat from successful hunting ventures, and other snacks. Fires and torches burned, lighting pathways, orchestrating signals.
The final touches were the sleds, and he hauled them over (after wiping any remaining blood off of them), intending to allow anyone who wanted them to utilize them for the sheer essence of fun.
--
It’s a Halo sledding party! Come join and have a good time – open for anyone!
Deimos has sleds available for use, and there’s stalls and tables with food, hot chocolate, and cider.
i rule the stars, not the other way around
