Deimos
The past scraped against his mind; measures he’d used when a loved one’s voice had strived to persist, to wound, to maim him from outside the walls of their sanctuary. “I will be in Halo, and not out there.” For starters. “You can ask them questions. Things only the other person would know about.” Chances and opportunities to manipulate, deceive, and speculate in return. They would still try to coax and entice, but the one he’d encountered had given up the torturous game a few rounds after.
Considering the way Darkeye had approached beings after Deimos gave him ample warnings, the General had doubts about the priest’s way of listening. The Sword gave a snort, fighting the urgency to roll his eyes, as if his misgivings, his experiences, were nothing. “That is your choice.” Perhaps it wouldn’t matter in the end, if what the Voice said was true – but the skepticism still intermingled through his spine.
Considering the way Darkeye had approached beings after Deimos gave him ample warnings, the General had doubts about the priest’s way of listening. The Sword gave a snort, fighting the urgency to roll his eyes, as if his misgivings, his experiences, were nothing. “That is your choice.” Perhaps it wouldn’t matter in the end, if what the Voice said was true – but the skepticism still intermingled through his spine.
you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight
all venom and fistfight
