DEIMOS
the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness
The Sword had remembered very quickly why he hardly ever bothered to say anything. Maintaining the status quo, remaining the calm, beleaguered soldier, had been easy. Nod here. Snarl there. Shift a blade into the gut of an opponent. Carry on with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He’d withstood barrage after barrage within the Basin hierarchy, shifting and turning, striving to unravel the granules he’d never quite understood – and lo and behold, the same damned tides had struck him again.
For setting boundaries. For sending messages. For trying to get his point across to stubborn, asinine individuals. And while Deimos would readily admit to his own obstinance, at least he was always willing to listen. To take it all in. To breathe in the space of calculations and machinations. To relish and strive for something greater and grander than himself. Which was more than what he could say for those he’d already had lengthy, or in the Wraith’s case, short, curt conversations with.
So it was nearly a relief to be back in the ivory shades of Halo, in the midst of his residual quiet. Challenged and pushed to ramparts he hadn’t delved within for a long time, the General hastened more to duty than anything else now – laboring and toiling along ridges and columns of snow encased, frozen, along the ridges of the walkway of the barracks. The monolith hastened towards using a shovel for its action, for the bounty of work for his muscles, content with the labor, the mindlessness of removing ice and rime.
For setting boundaries. For sending messages. For trying to get his point across to stubborn, asinine individuals. And while Deimos would readily admit to his own obstinance, at least he was always willing to listen. To take it all in. To breathe in the space of calculations and machinations. To relish and strive for something greater and grander than himself. Which was more than what he could say for those he’d already had lengthy, or in the Wraith’s case, short, curt conversations with.
So it was nearly a relief to be back in the ivory shades of Halo, in the midst of his residual quiet. Challenged and pushed to ramparts he hadn’t delved within for a long time, the General hastened more to duty than anything else now – laboring and toiling along ridges and columns of snow encased, frozen, along the ridges of the walkway of the barracks. The monolith hastened towards using a shovel for its action, for the bounty of work for his muscles, content with the labor, the mindlessness of removing ice and rime.
for the space they take
and so, neither shall I
and so, neither shall I
