DEIMOS
The Sword had never been a firm believer in fate, so he merely smiled at the notions. At her guess towards which deity had Attuned his fixtures though, he shook his head; perhaps he still wore a shroud of death over him, no matter where he roamed or how he changed. “Safrin.” Thereafter though were preparations, and once he was certain his animals were settled into their accompanying dinners, he turned his attention and movements back to where he’d been before – settling into the sand across from Shaye.
And eternally the listener he remained, not touching his food yet either, as she began to explain where she lingered in all these spiraling accords. Where her family had tread, where footsteps had been buried into the ice for hundreds of years, where ancestry and lineage intertwined with summits and peaks, tundras and snow. The silence in between could’ve told a thousand different things, but he didn’t sift, didn’t compel, didn’t insist – waited as the explanations ran their course.
Then he nodded, unfurling a long breath before his piercing gaze landed solely on hers. “Good. Because we stand with them as well.” For the people – and he’d always been that way, from the very beginning of whatever life had etched and sketched its way into his horizons. “And under Morgan’s leadership, and ties to the Voice, I worry for them.” And while it was their land, and Shaye proclaimed she’d be there no matter what occurred, this wasn’t a time for idle hands and hoping for the best. “It is your home, but no one should sit by and wait for her to ruin it. That is why the decisions comes from all of you. You have the power.” If they could just see that – beyond all the political strains and skewed ideology, the farce of neutrality, the bending and breaking, the chiseling ways of moments that were slowly, slowly, running out.
He supposed, it mattered in the end, whether or not they’d rather align with the Voice’s influences corroding the world from the inside.
And eternally the listener he remained, not touching his food yet either, as she began to explain where she lingered in all these spiraling accords. Where her family had tread, where footsteps had been buried into the ice for hundreds of years, where ancestry and lineage intertwined with summits and peaks, tundras and snow. The silence in between could’ve told a thousand different things, but he didn’t sift, didn’t compel, didn’t insist – waited as the explanations ran their course.
Then he nodded, unfurling a long breath before his piercing gaze landed solely on hers. “Good. Because we stand with them as well.” For the people – and he’d always been that way, from the very beginning of whatever life had etched and sketched its way into his horizons. “And under Morgan’s leadership, and ties to the Voice, I worry for them.” And while it was their land, and Shaye proclaimed she’d be there no matter what occurred, this wasn’t a time for idle hands and hoping for the best. “It is your home, but no one should sit by and wait for her to ruin it. That is why the decisions comes from all of you. You have the power.” If they could just see that – beyond all the political strains and skewed ideology, the farce of neutrality, the bending and breaking, the chiseling ways of moments that were slowly, slowly, running out.
He supposed, it mattered in the end, whether or not they’d rather align with the Voice’s influences corroding the world from the inside.
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
