memories of a bygone age

// maybe we're endless, maybe we're infinite //

The woman at his side is aware – perhaps more than the man that wears the mask himself, how many masks the Flood has. It’s become a somewhat subconscious thing – a means to try and protect himself from the harsher truths the world had to offer, one that he’d built and cultivated over decades now to try and keep from letting too much breach the surface, to keep from letting loose too many things his father or those around him could use against him.

He still never quite mastered it, but he’d at least tried.

So he offers his deflection, a deep rumble that trails off as he draws silent again, steel gaze focused with an avian attention on the woman with the cards before him. And he’s silent for a few seconds more even after she offers her advice, a soft sigh slipping from him as he glances over to Hotaru with a soft twinge of a smile. “So I’ve heard.” And yet, he still wakes every day, ready to atone for the sins the past him had made. Because while he does think he’s changed, it’s hard to believe that the rest of Caido would agree. And even those like Deimos, people out there who wouldn't give him another chance even if faced with the opportunity.

SUNJATA