always game

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Checking the ties on the sled again, and adjusting the portions now that there were three deer propped along the top of the timber, he waited in the midst of silence, watching as Belial hopped to a spot on the vessel – granting an inward snort, amused. The inquiries made him wonder if Damien was considering snagging a companion for himself, or simply hadn’t been in the presence of one – curiosity roaming in plumes and vestiges. “Yes. Though, I will admit, it’s that one’s thoughts to worry about,” pointing towards Zuriel, who shook her head regally before lofting it higher than before, supreme, queenly, and haughty. “You share a bond with them. Feelings, concepts, intentions – but each has their own personality.” Not unlike individuals across Caido.

As for battle axes, Deimos smirked, beginning to grab the strings to pull the sled along again, listening to the easy rush through the snow. “We have some available. I made them.” Meaning they’d be of high-caliber, not something cheap or potentially quick to break. “If you want to use those in high stake situations, I recommend putting some kind of recall on them.” Emphasizing a longer-range and ability to get it back, should it be stuck within a carcass or suddenly rampaging over a drift.

When everything else seemed accepted, he nodded, briefly watching Zuriel as she began trotting alongside the vessel, clearly intending to show off her caliber. The next question surprised him though. Given who he was, most would know his initial experiences had been mostly nothing – Abandoned didn’t gain the focus of many deities from those primordial days where the Voice had turned upon them – though maybe he’d be considered fortunate, as he’d never been cursed for his efforts either. “Initially, when I was simply an Abandoned, it was nothing. Safrin, however, has given me many opportunities since I Attuned.” A promised loyalty and foundation. “Have you met with any?”

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien let Deimos’ words about companions sit in the back of his mind, leaving an impression. Maybe he'd consider a companion of his own. There wasn’t much more to ask, not now, not while they trudged through the snow with a sled groaning under its weight. So he set his shoulder into the pull again, boots crunching in rhythm with Deimos’, the direction of their path bending back toward the Citadel.

The notion of a recall weapon, though, that stuck. Damien's lips formed into a smile, genuine in its approval. “That’s smart. More than smart. A weapon that comes back to hand? Practical. Trustworthy. I like that.” The thought of it sparked something that felt like real motivation. Something he could rely on, instead of improvising against monsters that gave no second chances.

But when the conversation circled around to the gods, Damien’s focus shifted. He kept his expression even, though his attention sharpened in that quiet, measuring way of his. He thought he caught the faintest flicker of surprise in Deimos’ expression.

“No,” he admitted after a beat, his voice low but steady. “I haven’t met any of them. Not heralds, not the old gods, not anyone.” He let out a slow breath, visible in the frost. “Part of me wonders if I’d even want to. Or if they’d want anything to do with me.” His tone stayed plain, unembellished, but the words carried a hint of the truth he wouldn’t name outright—that gnawing fear of rejection, of falling short.

After a moment, he glanced sidelong at Deimos, the Citadel’s distant outline just beginning to suggest itself through the haze of snow. “Safrin’s given you opportunities, then. What’s it like? Having that kind of tie to her?”

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Continually unbothered by the magnitude of the weight they pulled, given how much he’d carried over many years, he merely arched a brow, granted another small smile in the corner of his mouth. “You can put elemental fixtures into it as well.” Notions of fire, flames carving its niche into more blades, lightning, ice – his mind always conjured or concocted a various means to an end. Weapons could do much the same.

Even if he was surprised, given how many years he’d been amidst Caido and how many individuals he’d run into on this continent, he still wouldn’t press or cajole anyone into doing something they found disconcerting, uncomfortable. People needed to find their own means to an end – including their goals, motives, and ambitions. Some might never have the intention of discussing anything with the heralds of the world – and others, could very well have makeshift shrines in their homes.

“It took me a while to try,” he started, but his had been on foundations of mistrust, and some broken parts of sedition. But he’d also been the sort to rebel against the tides – never ashamed for what ran through his veins, regardless of what one woman had done to sully any notions of magic users. Nowadays, he could scarcely recall anyone hissing their distrust – but perhaps it was reputations preceding. Unaware of what held Damien back, and certainly not willing to pry, he couldn’t speak for the deities themselves, shrugging his shoulders, leaving room for discussion if the other still wanted to persist and wonder. “Does not mean you have to – but you might be surprised.” His eyes flickered towards Zuriel, prancing alongside the sled, her head tossed high and regal. “Have you ever felt an affiliation to any of them?” Maybe there were familial ties. Maybe there was naught at all.

The inquiry about Safrin didn’t surprise him though – that’d be a common theme throughout his years here. “Rewarding. She was the first one to grant me a chance at all.” Which meant multitudes to the Sword – and had been cultivated over years upon years, stories upon stories, alongside many alterations to Caido at large, or goddesses striving to remove threats, and the conviction behind void deliberations. “So I promised her my loyalty.” Without chains and other circumstances – a careful march. “It took time, as most good things do.” He wrinkled his nose, a touch juvenile, before his gaze went towards the Citadel prospering in the distance.

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien listened, head bowed slightly as he pulled, mulling over Deimos’ words like stones rolling in the current. The idea of elemental fixtures sparked something in him too—his mind already ticking through what it might mean to wield fire in the dead of Halo’s winters, or lightning against something monstrous that refused to fall. Practicality again. He liked that Deimos’ mind seemed to run down the same channels as his own: straightforward, solution-oriented.

But when the talk turned back to the gods, he found himself shifting his weight, shoulders tightening beneath his furs. He didn’t miss the way Deimos had shrugged, neither dismissing nor pressing, only leaving the space open. It made the answer a little easier to give.

“I think…” Damien started, then exhaled through his nose, steam curling in the frozen air. “If there’s any among the gods, it’s Rae. And Frey, the nature side of them. Plants, animals, the way things grow and adapt to survive.” He gave a faint huff of a laugh, short and a little self-conscious. “The mountains and trees have always felt more like home to me than shrines or prayers.” His gaze flicked to the horizon, distant but sharp. “The others—I don’t know. I don’t think I’d understand them the same way. Or they me.”

There was more behind the words—his doubts, his worries—but he kept those pressed down, steady in his tone. Curiosity lingered, though, threaded through with something closer to respect. He glanced at Deimos then, brow furrowed in thought.

“Is Safrin... what is she like? I've heard she can be fickle. Is it true, what they say?” He inquired, earnest, not prying or accusing but seeking.

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Pragmatic to a fault, and given Deimos’ propensity and practicality in all the elements stored within his own frame, the beat of his pulse, the winding of his control, he had no problem in applying it to other things. Useful, diligent, and sometimes intentionally dangerous for the moments that needed it, there could be a whole assortment of armaments and weaponry bolstered by the incantations. Right tools for the right place.

But the gods seemed a more intriguing topic for the other man, and while they inclined ever closer to the Citadel, the reasoning seemed to unfurl, whittled between thoughts and experiences. “Frey has done much for Halo, and Safrin as well.” So he could understand the ties to the former; the way nature always unleashed a little more in their Siberian outsets – for better or for worse. Deimos enjoyed the hostility of their terrain as another wall of defense – very few yearned to cling here, leaving them be. “Which is understandable – but sometimes you have to experience things for themselves,” he mused. “I enjoyed Ludo too.” But maybe that was the natural affinity for chaos, mischief, and amusements under the surface.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be pushing his predilections upon the other – it was a choice for Damien alone, down the road or never upon such paths. At the question though, Deimos laughed – it hadn’t been the first time he’d heard it. “It depends. She knows what she wants – to be admired, loved, cherished.” Those that might’ve considered her capricious and mercurial had likely crossed several lines – Sunjata being a memorable highlight. “She is beautiful, powerful, and a force.” But not for the lighthearted. “She rewards loyalty, but is not kind to the unfaithful.” At which the Sword could fully understand - having been on the receiving end of betrayal before.

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien was quiet for a stretch after Deimos’ answer, the steady crunch of boots in snow filling the gap. He wasn’t surprised to hear Safrin described in terms of beauty and power, though the blunt edge about her intolerance for betrayal had a weight to it that he didn’t ignore. That made sense to him—fair, in its own way. Even nature punished the careless.

“I can understand that,” he said finally, voice low but sure. “Loyalty ought to mean something. And if you cross a line, you pay for it. That doesn’t sound fickle to me. Just… dangerous, maybe. Like any force worth respecting.” His breath streamed out in pale ribbons, a rough laugh in his chest. “Guess the stories make her out to be a bit more temperamental than she really is.”

He walked a little farther before speaking again, eyes narrowed on the Citadel’s faint silhouette through the weather. There was something nagging at him, a practical angle he couldn’t leave alone.

“What about the rest of them, though?” he asked, glancing sidelong at Deimos. “The heralds. How do they feel about their followers praying to the others? Does it matter? If I bent the knee to Frey, would Ludo see it as a slight? Or Safrin?” His mouth tightened, tone measured, probing. “Jealousy’s a human trait, but gods are human in their ways too, aren’t they?”

There was no accusation in the words, only that searching edge to him again—the same look he’d turned on the deer herd, weighing angles, searching for truth in the patterns.

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

“Likely depends on who you ask,” and he gave another small smile; because while Deimos would always hold Safrin to a higher beacon and paragon, he could admit that others wouldn’t do the same. Experiences carved plains and valleys in many – should Damien press the identical inquiries into say Sunjata, Ronin, or Remi, there’d be far more outlier quantities and qualities. But he held betrayal and loyalty along similar playing fields – as a leader, he couldn’t trust those who would willingly stab him, and the region, in the back – and it had ended several friendships and relationships over the series of his seasons and cycles in Caido. Some could be patched and stuck back together over time, and others he wouldn’t ever bother, and would be much more likely to toss them off a mountainside.

The sled persisted, continuing its little jaunt with barely any trouble – the companions content while the men discussed heralds. Damien’s curiosity over the deities didn’t seem to end, though the Sword’s likely had been the same, after he got over the seditious ends and means. “Safrin prefers to be the only one, if you are ever her follower. I have not heard of Frey or Ludo caring as much.” He could be mistaken though, and given who he’d pledged himself to, it could’ve been a misnomer. “I think you will find the gods share many similar traits as humans.” He shrugged, not bothered by it; but then again, all their higher beings in Isilme, and Helovia, had riddled and rankled in such parallels – some greedy for power, others cunning and duplicitous, and then there were portions that were simply kind and compassionate.  "If you are looking for perfection, I doubt you will find it anywhere in Caido."

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

That whether Safrin was fickle or not depended on who you asked made sense, and Damien gave a small nod, as if that answer fit neatly into the groove he’d expected. He didn’t doubt there were plenty who’d crossed the gods—out of arrogance, ignorance, or sheer bad luck—and just as many who’d been ground under by powers they couldn’t hope to reckon with. Cosmic wills had little concern for mortal flesh. He wouldn’t pretend to understand what that was like. Not yet, not with no thread tying him to them.

He listened as Deimos went on, steady as the pull of the sled, and let the words settle. Safrin jealous. Frey and Ludo less so. That was a hierarchy he could almost wrap his head around, like dealing with chiefs and lieutenants, each with their own pride and temper. But it was the part about them being like humans that caught him, surprised him. For a long beat he stayed quiet, boots crunching rhythmically in the snow, furs tugging at his shoulders with every stride.

The thought of gods carrying the same cracks and sharp edges as men did—greed, compassion, vanity, loyalty—somehow made them feel less distant. Human nature he could figure out, even if it was messy. Gods, though? That was always the territory of prayers whispered at night, or stories told like warnings around a fire. This felt different. Closer.

When Deimos mentioned perfection—or the lack of it—Damien huffed a short breath, something between amusement and resignation. “I wouldn’t expect perfection,” he said at last, voice even, but there was a spark of something else in his eyes. Curiosity. Wariness. That bone-deep need to measure truth for himself.

“Tell me,” he asked after a moment, glancing sidelong at the Sword, “did any of them disappoint you?”

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Deimos had come from a long line of flawed individuals, and he carried the same reverberations. But he also tried to learn, strived to try, even when his pettiness, wariness, and primordial misgivings often held multitudes against others. Some he cut off instantly, without a shadow of a doubt, after they’d proven exactly who they were time and time and time again. Some he could abide and give second chances. Gods – he had to wonder, seemed less likely to alternate. But they’d had more time, more opportunities, more sights upon the vast array of mortals who had come and gone in their presence – probably left amused by their antics across the whole of Caido.

But the inquiry surprised him – though he didn’t show it. Perhaps Damien wanted to know all the roots and gathered perceptions well before he’d ever go to a shrine or a deity on his own – but sometimes, even then, it could only be one’s own experience to mold against the hordes of others; all different people with varying thresholds, personalities, and livelihoods. “Disappointed me,” he murmured, musing to himself as they grew closer to the towering expanse of the Citadel, brow furrowed as he pierced and slid over the memories collected in his mind. Of Safrin, finally accepting him into Attuned parameters, the vivid dreams, the way she’d sought out the void to try and stop it, the warnings pressed and extended, so that he and Ronin might do the same, sound the alarm, the fall –

“No. I cannot say they ever have.” He shook his head, eyes narrowed on the skyline. “I think it all depends on what you are asking for though.” Because maybe some components were simply out of their hands – or woven to instill lessons, a backfiring precision. He'd been the one ashamed when Rexanna had hit that door so long ago during LongNight - and never put any blame on Safrin for it.

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien accepted the answer with a slow nod, though it sat strangely in him, like a stone lodged in the throat of a stream. He didn’t think Deimos was lying—nothing in the man’s bearing suggested that—but maybe he’d just been luckier than most. Maybe his steps had carried him along paths where the gods hadn’t let the ground fall away beneath his feet. That happened, didn’t it? Some people lived in the shadow of storms and never got struck. Others burned the moment the lightning found them.

He didn’t voice it. Just let his gaze follow a raven dragging its shadow across the pale sky, wings black and hard against the smear of clouds. The bird floated easy on the wind, like it had been built to belong up there. Damien envied that. His own thoughts didn’t glide. They caught, snagged, spun back around to chew the same raw edges.

Maybe it wasn’t just caution. Maybe he’d never asked because some part of him never believed he had the right. What would a god want with a trapper’s boy who hadn’t managed to keep anyone he loved alive? Why would a herald waste the time, when there were priests and kings and better men kneeling with polished words and hands? He’d told himself he didn’t need them, that he was stronger for standing on his own. But the truth itched meaner than that. He didn’t think he was worth the asking.

And if he did ask? If the gods listened, he wouldn’t know what to do with it. If they didn’t—if they turned their shining faces elsewhere—that would only prove what he already suspected down in the marrow: he was nothing to them, just another body moving across the snow.

“I've never asked the gods for anything,” he admitted after a long stretch, his voice quieter now, thinned by the wind scouring the tundra, “but… I don’t believe they’d give a damn what I had to say. Why would they? I’m no priest, no king. Just a man trying to keep meat on the table and his bones out of the snow. What business would gods have with me?”

His jaw worked, something restless there, like he was chewing on words better left unsaid. After a moment, he added, softer still: “Maybe it’s easier to tell yourself you don’t need them, than to face that they’d have no reason to listen.”

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Deimos would consider himself fortunate in many circumstances – but some portions had been earned, through hard work, tenacity, and perseverance. Others, entirely gone the other way – trial after trial, loss after loss. One didn’t remain within Caido’s decent graces by kismet alone; this world wasn’t bent or shaped in such a capacity.

But he was also a careful individual; calculated, considerate, meticulous. He didn’t verge on paths similar to Sunjata’s or Remi’s – stuck to his roots, understood where his parameters were. He listened regardless, eyes narrowing to the Citadel’s fixture steeples and walls bearing their weight and distance, the notions an understandable component to Damien’s misgivings. “I think we have all felt that way.” The Sword had once been nothing more than an Outlander, driven from the only home he knew; seditious, irritated, and cold, wanting naught more than to be taken back to a place that was no longer in his grasp. The customs here had been different, and not vastly appealing – and the initial times he’d begged at any gods’ shrines had been for his friends’ plights. Only when he’d asked for something for himself had there been a response at all.

He sighed though, watching his companions, the uncertainty bounding along his own wisdom, sagacity, and experiences. “But you are as much a part of Caido as they are. Individuals help shape the world too.” Not as powerful, potent, or ancient, nor would Deimos believe any of them could hold a candle to the weight behind a deity’s might, but people made impacts. Halo had become stronger on their means and ambitions, and conspired amidst with Frey and Safrin. But had they never gone and asked, it might not have happened at all. Arching a brow, he turned to glance at Damien from over his shoulder. “No one is forcing you to ask or speak to them about anything.”

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien let the words turn over in his head, slow as grinding stones. Coming from anyone else, he might have brushed them off. But Deimos wasn’t just anyone—he’d carried Halo on his back, seen enough ruin and rebuilding to make his voice feel like something carved out of bedrock. If the Warden thought a man like him had a place, then maybe there was something worth hearing in that.

He gave a short huff, almost a laugh, though it had no humor in it. “No, no one’s forcing me. You’re right about that.” His shoulders lifted, furs shifting with the motion, then settled heavy again. “But being Accepted… it doesn’t feel like nothing, either. It’s stitched into me same as blood and bone. Like a mark you can’t wash out. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? Some part of me’s theirs, whether I ever kneel or not. Makes it harder to ignore.”

For a moment he watched his boots press into the crust of snow, then lifted his eyes again, squinting against the white glare. “Suppose I’m just venting. Haven’t said much of this to anyone else. Feels easier to keep it rattling around in my own skull.” He gave Deimos a sidelong glance, faintly wry.

His jaw tightened, then eased, like he’d come to some half-made peace with admitting it aloud. “I don’t know if I’ll ever go to them. But I appreciate you entertaining my questions, Warden. Makes it all sit a little different, hearing it from you.”

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek

and the only solution was to stand and fight

The Sword considered the argument – but having come from a place of being Abandoned, where they were often looked down upon for the magic that flowed through their skin – he wasn’t certain about the pressures placed upon an Accepted’s shoulders. Where his kind were immediately relegated to something lesser, Damien, and many others, had the ability to see and hear and utilize the heralds with much less derision. It’d taken the Sword years to accomplish the same. Still, Deimos didn’t hold that against the other man either – simply aligning with a different viewpoint. “Or gives you more opportunity,” he gave a slight smile, before his eyes flickered back to the Citadel ahead. “I suppose it all comes down to how we choose to take part in Caido at large.” Living, existing, day by day, growing stronger and stronger, until they could carve their own niches. Whether or not that included bowing their head to heralds mattered to each person.

Not a frequent venter, the hybrid snorted, but didn’t surmise, regard, or hold Damien in any other pronouncement. Opting to scrape at foundations, to alter points, or to at least have the other glance upon the vestiges and mull things over, he offered another route of thought. “Does visiting a shrine seem any different to you, then summoning them while channeling?”

Continuing to drag the sled, and noticing Belial had fallen asleep in his designated spot, he cast another glance Damien’s way, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “I find views change throughout our lives here.” For better or for worse, depending on the circumstances and experiences.

DEIMOS

DAMIEN

I know it's been a long time coming
I'm angry and I know that's weak

Damien’s brows pulled together, like Deimos had struck a stone he hadn’t known was buried in him. Channeling. He’d known of it, of course—it was his by right as much as the color of his eyes or the calluses on his hands—but he’d never once reached for it. Never tested the edge of that particular blade.

His mouth twisted, somewhere between rueful and self-mocking. “Truth? I’ve never tried it. Not once.” He let that hang for a moment, then gave a low breath, shaking his head. “Guess that tells you something, doesn’t it? Maybe I was afraid of what would answer...”

The tundra wind worried at the furs around his throat as he went on, voice quieter, more measured. “A shrine feels solid, at least. Stones stacked, offerings left, like… like you’re knocking on a door that’s meant to be there. Channeling…” He lifted a hand, as if weighing the thought, then dropped it again. “That’s different. That’s calling something to yourself. Or trying to. Feels closer. Riskier.”

He fell silent, boots crunching against the snow, until finally he glanced at Deimos sidelong. The wry edge in his expression had dulled to something closer to earnestness. “Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe it is opportunity. Maybe I’ve been too stubborn to see it.” His jaw worked, then eased. “Doesn’t mean I’ll start kneeling every time the wind shifts. But…” His gaze cut toward the horizon, toward the Citadel walls shouldering the distance. “Maybe it’s worth finding out what answers, if I finally ask.”

And I'm longing out that open window
For whatever it is I seek