who we are and all that we're trying to be
The days spun like clockwork and then not at all with other sporadic necessities; and the Sword had grown accustomed again to putting the Halo, the citizens, the guild, and his loved ones foremost. But the message conveyed to him meant he’d been remiss in not just tending to his own existence, but a favored deity’s as well. Perhaps another evaluation (or workaholic intervention) was in order; but he rounded along to the familiar lines of the shrine by the Citadel first.
Following a path he knew well, he snagged at the item made, created, and concocted for her; an elaborate hairpiece, comb embossed and embedded with starlit hues and colors; reflections of a sky close to the mountains. Placing it amongst the many other offerings, Deimos bowed his head, with a deep, residual rumble to follow. “Safrin, my apologies in taking so long.” Uncertain as to her reasoning behind the motive of messages through the courier, he could only reflect upon the amount of time in between visits, partaking almost in an inward grimace. Considering how often he thought being left alone a favorable thing, he had to wonder if the heralds didn’t feel the same way. “I trust you are well?”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
