I carried my own ashes to the mountains
He ceased movement as Noah stilled; not aware his question had been too puncturing, too piercing. The monolith usually, frequently, knew where he stood amongst the dramatics of the world; eternally certain in his own capabilities and foundations. It was the rest of the world’s motivations that sometimes remained mysteries, and only slid apart in some proportions now, when given thought, when given motion, when given time to extract them from the echoes and vestiges of one’s mind. Perhaps Noah had never had to sink into the same factions as war. Halo had its own history, its own mercies, its own slaughters and wakes, a world nestled in mountains that didn’t hold the same fractures. But it would at some point, in some way, and maybe it was best to know where they lingered now, before thresholds became entirely too murky or defined.
Deimos couldn’t help the snort that ensued from Noah’s statement about Neron. “Was it his leadership?” Or something else – the Launcelyn ties strong and binding, feral and twisting, a surname one didn’t forget – thanks to Zariah, and all her other constituents.
And even if the hunter hadn’t heard the stories surrounding the Voice, the Sword had lived amongst them. “What do you want to know?” Because he had ample amounts to tell, but only if Noah wanted to listen, wanted to learn, wanted to hear the way the earth had twisted back upon itself in her means and measures. Thereafter, at the proclamation, he nodded, eyes shifting back to the horizon, to the skyline, to birds overhead, to barrows in the distance.
Deimos couldn’t help the snort that ensued from Noah’s statement about Neron. “Was it his leadership?” Or something else – the Launcelyn ties strong and binding, feral and twisting, a surname one didn’t forget – thanks to Zariah, and all her other constituents.
And even if the hunter hadn’t heard the stories surrounding the Voice, the Sword had lived amongst them. “What do you want to know?” Because he had ample amounts to tell, but only if Noah wanted to listen, wanted to learn, wanted to hear the way the earth had twisted back upon itself in her means and measures. Thereafter, at the proclamation, he nodded, eyes shifting back to the horizon, to the skyline, to birds overhead, to barrows in the distance.
DEIMOS
