I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos listened. Even when fueled and immersed in irritation, the soldier had always paid attention. Lent his knowledge. His sagacity. His silence. But the winding roads Sah was traversing upon barely made sense to him – uncertain if the younger man was doing much of the same, or launching into some tirade borne from another tangent entirely. A wave of calm pierced and lingered over him, perhaps from Zuriel at his shoulder, perhaps from Belial at his feet, perhaps from the layers sticking and nettling, thorns nestled and curled. He didn’t want to keep having the same conversations over and over and over again, but perhaps they were necessary. “We have already said we would not do anything violent. Nor did I insinuate you should not care.” Of all the members of Morgan’s small council, Sah was probably the only one who considered the land and people as a whole.
His features grew less impassive, and his head tilted, diving into the curious annals, ignoring the way Sah altered his speech and tone. “But you are making massive leaps and assumptions. When and where did you see him spiraling? What does that mean?” Deteriorating? Wasting away? Crumbling into a mess? Because Deimos had seen Noah proud and protective, but certainly not any of the other measures or emotions.
And perhaps Sah could believe himself capable of running, of fleeing, of evading the celestial beings, but they were everywhere. “The Old Gods are embedded in Halo. Look at what Frey has done for the land. They are the deities that are here.” Sah didn’t have to worship them. Didn’t have to talk to them, but he wouldn’t be able to deny their existence. A pause, a flicker of something else, and a long, withering sigh unfurled, avoiding the urge to rub at his temples. “It is not wrong to want to curb the bloodshed.” That’s all the Sword had ever strived to do for those he trained – to ensure efforts of protection, of defense, were there. “But I do not believe barring Noah from his home is what will cease it."
His features grew less impassive, and his head tilted, diving into the curious annals, ignoring the way Sah altered his speech and tone. “But you are making massive leaps and assumptions. When and where did you see him spiraling? What does that mean?” Deteriorating? Wasting away? Crumbling into a mess? Because Deimos had seen Noah proud and protective, but certainly not any of the other measures or emotions.
And perhaps Sah could believe himself capable of running, of fleeing, of evading the celestial beings, but they were everywhere. “The Old Gods are embedded in Halo. Look at what Frey has done for the land. They are the deities that are here.” Sah didn’t have to worship them. Didn’t have to talk to them, but he wouldn’t be able to deny their existence. A pause, a flicker of something else, and a long, withering sigh unfurled, avoiding the urge to rub at his temples. “It is not wrong to want to curb the bloodshed.” That’s all the Sword had ever strived to do for those he trained – to ensure efforts of protection, of defense, were there. “But I do not believe barring Noah from his home is what will cease it."
DEIMOS
