DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
After meetings, after thoughts, after extensions of necessities, there were other multitudes to consider, factions to fathom. A stretch of limbs expanded, from wings to paws, until the restlessness no longer coiled so heavily in his soul, so that it felt like action instead of consequences, something he could sink concoct and conduct, rather than sink into. He wasn’t surprised by the fellow hunter’s silence throughout the dominion of movement and motion. There were multitudes to mull over, and Deimos often committed to his machinations in the hushed quiet too. For now though, touching down and shifting back into human form, and reaching into his bag to snag at what had been gathered for the shrine, he lifted his head back towards Noah. Do you have other business in Torchline? By way of presumption – nearing its borders, the jungles eventually ceasing to sand. While the Sword would still respect the banishment placed upon him, Noah didn’t have such tethers attached to his namesake.
Nearing the shrine, a humble sort of thing, his eyes traveled and traversed their way up its roots, its sanction, tangled and nestled in the wake of the earth, and then he bowed his head. A silent thank you, a gesture of gratitude for all of Frey’s endeavors in Halo, before placing the fruit along the surface, tucking it in between branches, brambles, and thorns.
And then noting, by way of a familiar grumbling and hissing, that they had company. “Gourds,” he announced with a heavy sigh, as if it was just one more thing on a long list of irritants, as the pumpkins began to show themselves at the bottom of the altar.
Unite and spread the heart apart
