[Se]You need sweet things

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

The Sword traversed back over roots and foundations, starting in the market. Where he’d been well stocked in Torchline, there hadn’t been ample time to hunt efficiently out on the Tundra, and his house was still as boxed up and empty as it had been before a swift and sudden exile. Eternally hardy, and furtively supportive, he found those he’d admired and utilized from seasons before, making trades and promises on sessions in the barracks all in due time, permitting a few laughs that resounded easier and easier as time progressed. Within an hour, he had an adequate amount of wares and food for the upcoming week, and several other projects the season required, turning down the street back towards things registering as home.

With Belial hooting and leading the way, gliding above the survey of people, the peryton noticed Darkeye first. His habitual outcry of excitement rampaged, making several others scurry out of the way, as he descended in a rush. Deimos, with a sigh, followed along, predicting he’d have to pry the peryton away from some children again.

But to his surprise, there wasn’t a cluster of kids that his companion was gathered around, but the familiar outline of the elder warpriest. “Darkeye,” he rumbled, shifting his bag over his shoulder. If there was some mild bewilderment in his voice, he didn’t try to hide it. “What brings you to Halo?”

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I