one smart cookie

The Palace was an all-encompassing beacon on the horizon; a stalwart sign of the Citadel. However, Erebos was beside the Council Hall and its stone proportions, propped underneath a certain window, biding his time. Some of those antics included making a snowman, though it lacked any foundational features like arms or a mouth, because then he’d become distracted by a stick that Belial had brought over, and together they’d been weaving a whole pattern of pictures in the piled up rime.

The peryton had taken to pummeling himself into the drifts and making…well, carnivorous deer angels, while the youngest Ignatius initially felt inclined to practice writing his name over and over again. It ended up being a smoother fixture by the end, and he’d be able to show off his talents over dinner on a piece of paper, but for the moment it looked like he’d lain claim to singular parts of mounds and mini-fortifications. Then he started drawing thing, not unlike his dad’s monster journals, except these figures had grown wild hair and unimaginable fangs.

A few people came in and out of the threshold, and he’d give a cheery, sunshine smile and a wave, before they were off again, and so was he, entertained until the appropriate hour.

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus pushed through the palace doors with a little more force than necessary, the warm air spilling out behind him as he stepped into Halo’s bite once more. His breath fogged instantly, curling around the irritation already tightening his jaw. Frost crunched under his boots as he descended the steps, muttering under his breath.

“I’m not a damn courier,” he grumbled, tugging his cloak tighter. He’d dropped off the requested supplies like he had nothing better to do than run errands through the Citadel’s maze of polished hallways. Morgot and Ravenna had asked, sure, and Marcus wasn’t about to argue with that combination of women, but still. He wasn’t built for delivering scrolls and parcels like some messenger kid.

The palace guards pretended not to hear his muttering; he pretended not to see their smirks. He’d probably complain all the way back to the Greenwing—and yet still do whatever was needed the next time someone asked—but something else caught his attention. A flash of movement and a vaguely familiar glint in the smile the child gave stopped him in his tracks, and only did the calculations solidify as Belial burst through another bought of snow. "Erebos?"

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus

Belial rose with a clamor of shrill squeaks, and Erebos watched the peryton’s wild descent. Laughing and clapping, for both nearly always encouraged one another to be obnoxious, colossally stupid, or both, he raced to the nearest pile of snow and properly launched off the top. It wasn’t very far from the ground, to be fair, and he did it adequately so his boots only laned a few inches deep into the rime below, but the deer praised him regardless. Then the boy extended his arms in an imitation of wings and feathers, making several cawing noises, before looping back around and figuring he’d do the whole thing over again.

Except someone called to him, and his head jerked upwards. Recognizing the figure in passing, he gave a bright smile and a wave, before clambering and climbing back to the top of the mound. “Hi Marcus!” Cheery as ever, he bolstered down again, this time intentionally landing on his butt and watching as the powder flew upwards. “If you’re looking for dad, he’s in a meeting.” He wrinkled his nose, in an apparent shared disdain for such things; unaware of the many times he’d been an inactive participant in them. “But he said I could make a -,” he paused, already forgetting the word. “Div…something for him in a little bit. So he can escape.”

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus blinked, taken off guard by the sheer force of Erebos’s enthusiasm (and Belial’s, which was somehow worse,though not unfamiliar). Snow sprayed across his boots as the boy landed, and Marcus lifted a hand to shield his face from the powder. "Meeting, huh?" Marcus echoed, "Figures." He was sure Deimos did not want to be there, which was solidified by the boy's next words. He couldn't remember the word, but perhaps it was distraction?  

The kid was taller now, sharper in the cheekbones, voice steadier but still bright as sunlight. It wa a lot. Not in a bad way. It felt odd, looking down at the wild-haired Ignatius and thinking that this is how other Halovians had looked at him not that long ago. Deimos was protective, borderline terrifying about it sometimes--Evie, even moreso. The idea of them signing off on magical aging felt wild.

So, he wondered, if the visit had been as accidental as he and Margot's first.

He stepped closer, eyeing the boy with an incredulous squint. "You grew," he said bluntly, because subtlety had never been his strong suit. "Like—overnight." His gaze flicked to Belial, as if the peryton might confirm it with another bout of chaos.

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus

Deciding this time to roll his way down the makeshift snowbank, he could reflect later how well Deimos had made the snowsuit – because none of the fabric underneath remained touched by the cold. He unfurled in rapid succession, giggling as his world view turned topsy turvy, Marcus upside down, then not, then upside down again, as he spiraled downward and into the powder once more. Glancing upwards but not moving from his spot, he gave a hapless shrug as Belial purposefully landed on him.

The statement though made him bolt upright, tall and proud and lanky, despite the snow sticking to him everywhere. The peryton launched upwards too on a ridiculous outcry, soaring above after using the child as a launch pad. “Yeah. Didn’t you?” He’d heard enough stories. His parents talked, and no matter how quiet they tried to be, he was also very nosey. Could be quiet when he wanted. “But it was something I wanted. Y’know. Not to be a baby anymore.” Marcus could probably understand that. “I think dad was upset. Or worried, probably.” Hard to tell with his father, seeing as how he purposefully slid those masks over his face. “Now I can go on adventures and do stuff though!” Crawling along the bank again, he glanced back at the older lad – a spark of thoughts running through his mind. “You’ve done fun things, right?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus watched the boy tumble, roll, unfold, and pop upright like some snow-dusted jack-in-the-box made of limbs and uncontained energy. Belial’s dramatic launch nearly earned a startled swear, but Marcus only huffed, stuffing his hands deeper into his cloak as the peryton spiraled overhead like an omen of future chaos.

Erebos’s question made Marcus’s mouth pulled into a humored, uneven line. "Yeah." he admitted. "I did." Still, he couldn’t help adding, “Your dad being worried sounds about right. Your mom too—Evie could probably freeze a person solid just by glaring if she thought you weren’t safe.  But it's their job to worry." 

When Erebos declared he could go on adventures now, Marcus quirked a brow. "Adventures, huh? That why you’re rolling down snowbanks like you’re training for some…Olympics of falling?" He laughed, cerulean eyes sparkling with the jest of it as he poked fun at the boy.

Erebos crawled toward the top again, and the boy’s question drifted back to him. Marcus’s first instinct was to say not really. His life had been fighting and responsibility and fire he hadn’t understood. But Erebos’s face was open, expectant, hopeful.

“…Yeah," Marcus started slowly, stepping closer and nudging a chunk of snow off the mound with his boot. "I’ve done a few. Fun by Halo standards, anyway. Chasing auroras. Riding with luxere herds. Once climbed a cliff I had no business climbing just to see what was at the top. But when I aged I attuned, too, so I wasn't as afraid the cliff as I should have been. Since I've got wings." He jerked his chin toward the boy. “You planning to beat my list already?”

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus

Without waiting for an answer, the boy climbed back up to the top of the modest snowbank, but remained at the peak, clearly trying to decipher his next movement, when Marcus started to explain. His parents’ occupations did seem quite rankled into the worried sort; his father was always watching over him, and then Halo at large, and probably hordes of other things in between. Evie had her medic responsibilities too, and yeah, could absolutely devour someone whole (so he liked to believe, because it was funny and the mental image was just about right). “I guess,” he admitted with that inherited trait of a wrinkle to his nose, threatening to become a formidable pout, before blowing air out of his cheeks quickly, watching it dissipate into warm puffs. “It’s not like I want to make them worry. Just y’know. Wanted to have fun.” At that point, he sat down and slid down the powder instead, making his own softly laden trail blazed down the center, giggling as he landed at the bottom.

“Is there such a thing?” he laughed, content with throwing a little snow around with his thick mittens. But then there were other things, like Marcus’s ventures, that had his little mouth dropping in awe. “Maaaaaybe,” he grinned thereafter, imagining all those sentiments and more. “I want to explore too though! What’s the best place you’ve ever been?”

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus snorted softly as Erebos puffed warm air into the cold, watching it vanish like it had never existed at all. "Fun has a way of making people worry," he said, not unkindly. " Especially when you’re small and determined.” His mouth twitched. "Trust me. My sisters were very good at that part." He laughed, bright and loud and quick.

He tracked the boy’s slide down the snowbank with an instinctive half-step forward, but relaxed when Erebos landed laughing and intact. Marcus crouched then, scooping a bit of snow and tossing it lazily aside. He leaned back on his heels, gaze drifting past the palace walls to where the tundra stretched white and endless. "Most people would expect something big," he said slowly. " Some ancient ruin, or a god-touched place. And those are…something." His fingers flexed, remembering heat and fear and wings unfolding where they hadn’t before.

"But the best place?" He glanced back at Erebos, cerulean eyes steady. "Was the desert. The opposite of Halo. But, I wouldn't want ti live there. Just explore it." Then, lighter again, he added, "And if you beat my list, I’m absolutely calling it cheating. "

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus

His brow arched at Marcus’s comment, head tilting vaguely, brows furrowed and clearly trying to puzzle out that sudden conundrum. “Fun doesn’t always have to be like…dangerous,” he finally cemented with all that fledgling certainty that came from ignorance and willfulness, gaze not yet tainted by the world. He shrugged, throwing a pile of snow upwards and letting it cascade around his frame and into his hair. “Though I bet it’s even more fun when it is.” Not even bothering to hide his mischievous grin, likely inherited from both parents but being incapable of hiding it even more a moment more, he started rolling a snowball, mittens trying to make the less-than-sticky particles snag and build upon one another.

He didn’t miss Marcus’s half step forward though; laughed a little under his breath. But then there were answers to his questions, and he jerked back from his current snowball making at the mere thought of the desert being the best; like it was some blasphemy. “Okay, but why?” He’d only gone to the festival with his dad, and been transported in their via Deimos’ very large shifts, but from what he could recall, other than neat games and hot air balloons, was the intense, meddlesome heat of the world, and the dry, decrepit, primordial means surrounding everywhere else.

At the other statement though, he scoffed again, shaking his head as he finally manufactured the perfect snowball. “How would it be cheating?” Despite the fact that he was mentally adding up all sorts of things to accomplish that would beat out the older individual’s score.

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus wasn't really a story teller, but the idea that sparked in his head was fun, and he wondered if he could enrapture the child before him and keep him still if only for just a moment. "I’ll tell you why that would be cheating." He started, letting his voice drop like he was letting Erebos in on a big secret. "You’re younger than me. A lot younger. That means the world gives you shortcuts I don't get anymore. Smaller size, faster reflexes, more wiggle room." He wiggled his shoulders, too, emphasizing the idea and hopefully painting a picture for the young Ignatius. 

He lifted his hands slightly, gloved palms towards the youngling to try and keep his attention. "Imagine this: a cliff that had me clawing every foothold, arms screaming, heart racing? You could just shimmy up, slip between rocks I had to fight to hold. Snowbanks that buried me up to my waist? You dive, roll, and—poof—you’re already at the bottom." Marcus lifted his eyebrows, eyes glinting with the mischevious wonder of it. “You’d get through everything faster than I ever did. That’s cheating." He moved his head to look at Erebos from an angle now, eyes narrowing some to entice the young boy. "So yeah, if you’re planning to beat my list just because you’re younger and faster, I’m calling it now—that’s cheating."

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus

The youthful energy still coiled within his frame, he admired his snowball, before inevitably tossing it midair from his space along the powdery ground. For half a moment, he thought he’d be able to catch it. Then Belial came shrieking down, snagging it in his mouth, chomping down on it with gnashing canines.

Laughing rather than getting mad, he worked on another one, watching the peryton land from the corner of his eye. All the while, he was listening to Marcus, but his head tilted, quizzical, not quite computing or understanding the logic in the tale. Having listened to his parents many a time, either puzzling through a current Halovian conundrum or something to amuse themselves, he glanced right back at the hybrid. “I mean, you could’ve done all that at my age too.” Then he shrugged, pretending he wasn’t the least bit affected by the challenge – inwardly goaded, fully intending to beat each and every one of those things.

erebos

and then we dream so much

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus opened his mouth with a smart reply already half-formed, something sharp and teasing, but it stalled when Erebos spoke. He watched Belial steal the snowball, listened to the easy logic in the boy’s voice, and felt something in his chest shift, settling heavier than before.

He exhaled, slow, then shook his head. "No," he said, quieter, with a sadness tugging on the corners of his smile. "I couldn’t have." Marcus straightened, boots crunching as he shifted his weight. "Not really. Not like you can." He shifted his weight. "When I was your age, there was the Family, and the void." His jaw tightened at the word.

The wind picked up, sharp and insistent, and Marcus became aware of the way the light had shifted, how long the shadows stretched across the courtyard stones. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "“I’ve been standing around a lot longer than I meant to."

"I’ve got another chore before the day’s out," he said, jerking a thumb toward Snowcloak. "Try not to start a snow war with the guards while I’m gone, yeah?"

FIN

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus