Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
There were intricate contradictions layered between – protection, but then not, service, but then taking it back. A lack of confidence, perhaps, amidst the folds of sanctity and sanctuary. A presumption made based on the heels of his own experiences and growth, in those infinitesimal instances where nothing seemed like enough. He took one final sip of his drink, the warmth remaining likely due to carefully honed incantations instilled, before arching his brow, glancing pointedly back at the shaman. “Yet, it sounds like you have already made some progress.” Persuaded and dissuaded from damage fraught upon waters diverted, eroded, or trees knocked down along jungle lines – King’s End chosen for its fertile fields and plentiful soil.A consultation with Frey might have been in their best interests too, but considering the Abandoned proportions, one he knew well, the words didn’t make it past his initial machinations. There they would sit, and still, while he rose, taking hold of the funnel cake’s plate, the mugs, one empty, the other left half-finished, intending to carry them over to where others of their ilk were collected. He paused in his movements, contemplating the best way to move onward. “Trying is better than nothing at all.” For how many had been bystanders and passersby in these boundaries drawn along the way?
The General shrugged, maneuvering away from the table, extending invitations as he went. “I am heading towards the kiosks,” jutting his jaw towards the lines of market stalls – naturally nosey and curious about other wares he could snag for friends and family. “You are welcome to join me.”
And with that, he turned back along the rows.
{FIN}
