I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos took a long, deep breath once more, as Sah seemed to come back to some form of rationality. But the visible look of irritation remained. His mind was churning in all directions, striving to find the interlocking maneuvers and motions the Abandoned was proposing, and how they’d arrived at such junctures. Arms continued to be folded across his chest, and Zuriel had once more slid her muzzle on the top of his shoulder, as he found a boulder to sit upon. He’d much preferred angling gore crows around to this. “Seems to? Are you basing this on one instance? A plan framed on an assumption?” How had that been spiraling? Another pause and consideration, wondering if words had been placed in the Sentinel’s mouth. “Is that what he said? That he hated an entire race?” The Sword’s eyes narrowed again, befuddled, bewildered, perplexed by the journey – especially since Sah had seen and experienced multitudes of it. “You saw Neron, Nate, and Wessex willing to do exactly that.” Individuals, but certainly not the whole.
One of his hands went to his chin, propping his head up as his elbow dug into his thigh. The notions of rubbing his temples came again, but he relented, listening in his diligence and patience. This scheme was skewed and far too reliant on variables of people, of characters, who probably weren’t willing to go along at such a pace and march (himself included). “While I appreciate the thought you have put into these notions, I do not know many who would return to Morgan, and willingly aid her, after everything she has done.” She’d orchestrated the measures to herself, and unfortunately Halo. “We have a stalemate now because she cannot go to the gods herself.” Except for the Voice – pushing and pressuring, dividing and devising, showcasing for the world exactly what the woman had become. It was one of the few things they had going for them at the moment, and he wasn’t about to relinquish it. The Sword glanced down at the ground, contemplating, considering, ways to improve, rather than flat out deny. “She would not allow us any power to call the Old Gods. It would go against the Voice. We would just be a number.” And in that way – wasn’t Sah using them?
As for the apologies, and the outburst, his jaw clenched, resolute, piercing stare pinpointed back to Sah. “I am your friend, but I did not deserve any of that. Nor does Noah.”
One of his hands went to his chin, propping his head up as his elbow dug into his thigh. The notions of rubbing his temples came again, but he relented, listening in his diligence and patience. This scheme was skewed and far too reliant on variables of people, of characters, who probably weren’t willing to go along at such a pace and march (himself included). “While I appreciate the thought you have put into these notions, I do not know many who would return to Morgan, and willingly aid her, after everything she has done.” She’d orchestrated the measures to herself, and unfortunately Halo. “We have a stalemate now because she cannot go to the gods herself.” Except for the Voice – pushing and pressuring, dividing and devising, showcasing for the world exactly what the woman had become. It was one of the few things they had going for them at the moment, and he wasn’t about to relinquish it. The Sword glanced down at the ground, contemplating, considering, ways to improve, rather than flat out deny. “She would not allow us any power to call the Old Gods. It would go against the Voice. We would just be a number.” And in that way – wasn’t Sah using them?
As for the apologies, and the outburst, his jaw clenched, resolute, piercing stare pinpointed back to Sah. “I am your friend, but I did not deserve any of that. Nor does Noah.”
DEIMOS
