the wild screaming weight

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us He almost snorted at the leaning into apathy and nonchalance. It was as easy as breathing to someone like the Sword; another layer of armor for not letting the world touch him, scrape against everything already sculpted, built, and whittled away. It’d kept him whole and together on battlefield after battlefield, but never for longer thereafter – there were always moments to break, sight unseen, before donning the same forged steel and the mantles again, stepping out into the light and not feeling any of its warmth. He couldn’t fault the Flood for that; misery was misery, and not something one wanted to be consumed by, day after day after day. A way of protection from the perilous ways this earth shifted, divided, and devised – from war to death to loss to bleeding, breaking oaths and things that had been promised gone within a breath. Instead though, he banked, flying lower, taking a longer approach on the eaves of another small inlet of groves and streams. Depends on the decisions you must make. For now, they weren’t at war, festering and bleeding upon one another while fighting to everyone else’s lives. The larger decisions, at least at present, seemed to be amongst weather patterns and regional necessities; unless there were other factions and fractures at large. But you likely already know it cannot last. Even Deimos couldn’t have managed to hold his soul in those seams and scars for an eternity – not without an outlet, not without a way to remember humanity and some pieces of himself beyond weapons and demise. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

sleep don't visit, so i choke on sun // and the days blur into one

The dragon swoops alongside Deimos, drifting occasionally beneath the thunderbird as they continue to fly and scout and track, as the conversation continues and he finds it to be some of the most calm, easy conversations they’d had when it had come to him and his choices. It’s something that bolsters him further as the sound of a soft laugh crosses along the attuned bond. Yeah, that’s why I don’t plan on it lasting forever. He admits, wings flaring to catch the next thermal.

As they continue, though, his attention drifts back toward the thunderbird. I’m just going to focus on King’s End for now and myself. I owe it to myself. That was the general idea he’d gotten from everyone – at least those close to him. Melita had said it, Frey had said it. It was enough to outweigh the self pity long enough to stick, to linger as something he probably should be doing.

and the backs of my eyes hum with things i've never done

SUNJATA

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us He had to wonder what Ru would think now, in all these underlying, warped motions. While she said she no longer cared, that she had to move onward, forwards, all over again, finding and forging new paths - she likely didn’t want the Flood to remain in this state. Ru was capable of saying many things, and leaving multitudes buried under the surface; but Deimos had no sway in wherever the Archon’s ambitions meandered, only advice many never bothered to take. Despite it being another mistake in a long litany of errors, this one could be mended and solved, but it’d be up to Sunjata himself. A control of his own destiny, rather than a heart clutched and taken, scurried away until the aftermath was too massive, unpredictable, unknown, before everything came to the surface. A long breath unfurled as they drew over another vibrant plain, catching the confession over parallels of streams and grazing luxere. Not planning on it for an eternity gave a slight tilt to his thunderbird head; aware of how easy to was to be consumed by loss. Grief and trauma and apprehension had no timeframe; it came and went on the wind, ghosts creeping into the back of the skull, wraiths at the corner of one’s eyes. And when one couldn’t lament? His eyes narrowed, focused on the arches and lines of greenery ahead. Understandable. He started at first, pondering if he should close it there, no more inquiries, no more questions, let Sunjata find root in the shell. But Deimos could maneuver in these situations too, offer lifelines that required nothing but pragmatic calculations – for both regions. Let me know if you are still interested in trade. A show that they could still work together, and around, the current situation. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

sleep don't visit, so i choke on sun // and the days blur into one

It was helpful to hear, honestly. The offer of trade – the offer that was more than just the superficial question. The offer that also meant they could work together, rely enough on each other that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing a connection that would be extremely beneficial. Halo, as he can see from this height and from his trips here lately, was an admirable region. It was something Sunjata looked at for inspiration, and on the occasion that they needed it like when the Family was here, help. I am. He reassures him.

The dragon nods briefly, distracted by the vibrant fields below that they soar over. We could trade this season? He asks, tilting his reptilian head over to the thunderbird. He has no prospects right now anyway, and they had talked about it in the past before Sunjata had to file it in amongst the other trades he had planned. This time, though, Sunjata has no plans holding him to the task, so if Deimos wished to trade this season, the Heartless had more than enough ability and ease to do so.

and the backs of my eyes hum with things i've never done

SUNJATA

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us If someone had asked Deimos years ago if he’d be working with Sunjata across regional tangents, the Sword would’ve snorted, gone down into the massive depths of his spite and bitterness, and likely refused. But wars made strange allies, and no longer worrying about Ru pervading in the Archon’s orbit, there was nothing left to show for his age-old animosity. No Ascended. No charges of arson. No spy guilds. Just the semblance that they were trying to do their best with what they’d been given, and then carving out a niche for themselves and their respective kingdoms. Without the Valkyrie’s anger or outrage tied and tethered, anchored in flames, Deimos had no reason to turn his towards the Flood again; hatchets buried under altered conditions. Whether or not he fully trusted the man was another thing entirely; he couldn’t correct some of those ancient slights overnight. Normalcy then, hovering over those lines and means. Hovering over another herd of deer before moving on, he slipped around outcroppings of glacial boulders and rocks, before swinging back down another stream, following its wavering pathlines through the valley. If you think your people could benefit from ice, sure, he granted with a slight amount of amusement; Halovians had more than enough. Healing, however, from renderings of unicorns, could do well for his constituents; mending a benefit and boon to all, easily shaped into something tangible. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

sleep don't visit, so i choke on sun // and the days blur into one

It’s lucky that they don’t need as much trust when it came to their respective regions – just enough to make things work, to trust that they’d do the right thing, and from where Sunjata’s standing, he’s been striving to be that region that could be relied upon just as everyone else’s could. To have Halo as an ally was a strong motivation to stay in Deimos’ good graces, too, though without a current war to focus on, Sunjata’s content to take this time to try and figure things out.

The dragon dips again, catching another thermal as he listens for Deimos’ comment, snorting a little as amusement flickers through the bond on his side too. I’m pretty sure the last thing they’d expect us to have is ice. So yeah. Ice is great for us and you get healing in return. He muses playfully, relaxing the longer the conversation turns into something more normal.

and the backs of my eyes hum with things i've never done

SUNJATA

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us With plans in motion, the pragmatism persisted and continued, his eyes flickering briefly back towards the Citadel far, far off in the distance, and everything else waiting for him. The acceptance of ice and healing came easily, and while it would take a little more thereafter to solidify tangible items melded and molded together, it was a start, much like so many other things. His voice rumbled through again, less on amusement and more on practicalities. I could bring the ice to the Festival of Lights, if you are planning on attending. They could settle matters there, and be on their respective ways thereafter. Evie is due soon, so I do not intend to stay too long. As a warning, and perhaps an explanation as to why he lurked far, far closer and within Halo – taking care of things close at hand and deeper entrenched into the region. He presumed Sunjata wouldn’t want to return to this particular land as it hovered closer to Deepfrost, even with their latest and respective alterations in temperature. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

sleep don't visit, so i choke on sun // and the days blur into one

As the plans are starting to get made, Sunjata continues to dive and dip along the currents of the air, the thermals popping up here and there and billowing in against his wings. The leathery appendages snap out further, coasting as Deimos recommends a time and place that works out well for the Heartless.

The mention of Evie being due soon makes sense, and he’d do the same if he’d ever had a chance to be a father to a child that wasn’t from a goddess. So he nods, glancing up and over at the thunderbird. Festival of Lights works. I’ll bring the shavings and we can swap. He agrees, a verbal little promise on the winds in Halo for a trade.

and the backs of my eyes hum with things i've never done

SUNJATA

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us Nodding at the agreed upon timeframe, Deimos unfurled a long breath; content with the arrangements. Still neutral and neither raising their hackles at one another, junctures of intricacies and past circumstances evaded. Maybe they’d both grown in the interim, between the wakes of anger and the calamities of war. Sounds good. I am heading out, and he gestured with his beak towards the Citadel in the distance, another beacon and symbol of the northern wake and everything he’d ever worked for. See you then. Trusting Sunjata would know his own way home, and that the cold wouldn’t follow him too closely around boundaries and territory lines. [FIN] the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left