into the endlessness

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame It had been a long while since Deimos had ceased thinking about impending doom, strange happenings, or permitted mere moments of simply nothing - though he wasn’t certain the Draig would offer such a respite either. It brought forth other memories, of war and bloodshed and bedlam, chaos mired in stillness, but he’d accepted the invitation from Ronin for an opportunity to try. Maybe there were aspects to the world without the threat of damnation looming. On the promise of bringing Evie something back, uncertain if there were Cordillera souvenirs (besides trauma), he’d memorized the route on the Supernova’s map, taking to the skies above Halo and beyond – a golden eagle outline against the sky, bag clutched tightly in his talons, all intentions of not bringing attention to himself as a thunderbird. While he watched for dragons, their silhouettes and wings on clusters and patterns but far enough away to not be impactful, his eyes traced over the summits again, feeling the rustle of cold air touch upon feathers, and wondered what it would’ve been like to simply revel in the enigmas and beauty, without the maelstroms. Reminded of the Basin, for however many moments, he quietly drifted downward, recalling some portions of granules and formations from when they’d been amidst onslaught after onslaught. Only thereafter did he spot the waterfall, a glaring and obvious thing by the way the liquid flowed upwards, and his descent was spent marveling at the seemingly infinite quandaries of it, before ultimately touching down upon a meadow, green and vibrant beneath his feet. Shifting, his gaze flickered in multitudes of directions, taking in the picture, surroundings, with a distinct awe and presuming he knew exactly why the demigods had sequestered themselves here. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace