Noah
When the Sentinel finished his sketching and his little notes for what he thought he could make, he turned the paper in a way that Deimos could see. ”How’s this?” It wasn’t as fancy as the cloak and suit that had been made for him for his wedding, but it was fancier than anything he owned in his normal closet.
Noah stopped his sketching and his playful jesting when Deimos’ tone shifted. He looked up at the hybrid and shifted his weight some. ”That’s not good.” Though the Voice and the Core were destroyed and gone, having any semblance or reminder of what their power once was could not be looked over. It could give other people ideas.
Noah laid his sketching tools down and looked to the sky, then out around them, then finally back at the Sword. ”I think we should dispose of it. While she may be gone, and thus no power is held within that shrine…I don’t want anyone to ever get the same ideas in their heads that turned the Voice into what she was.”
