how they armor themselves for you

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame A steady breath resided within his chest; even if he couldn’t quite feel it reaching the tips of his fingers, the depths of his palms. They stretched and flexed as he walked closer and closer to the shrine, a slow, meticulous stride as he processed a change of positions, an alteration in schisms, the depth of betrayal, and what it all meant in the end. Safety for Halo. For people he’d vowed to protect. For promises and convictions he’d made. At the very least he’d been capable of upholding these. He bowed his head at the altar, another deep inhale walling and unfurling, before extending his offerings in another gilded inclination of incantations and enchantments: strings of lights, of stars, meant to convey the sky, the galaxies, the constellations, curling and contorting on a necklace, before hanging it on one of the mantle pieces. For mercy, for forgiveness, for the clemency he'd enacted upon. The Sword stepped back, tilting his head, studying the room around him before extending his voice into the void. “Safrin, the Old Gods have Halo now.” Which she would’ve seen, would’ve known – the task complete. -- Due to the latest KQ takeover, Deimos has helped Halo’s leadership side with the Old Gods: {KQ} all the triumph overhead, disaster underneath Task given here: allowed to reach master of nothing place; of recoil and grace