DEIMOS
The Sword had yet to fully explore the Halo region, despite all his prior excitement over its existence. A portion of him had deigned and dreamed it to be much like the Basin, and perhaps that was where the disappointment lingered in his lungs, because it wasn’t, and couldn’t be, and the mountains were not the same. He should have known better than to place some blind, nostalgic faith in its credentials, but that nefarious heart had twisted and coiled in its ether, in the reminders behind his eyes, in the memories of primordial yesteryears, wicked things and dominations he still craved. The auroras were not theirs. The ice was not theirs. The summits were not theirs. It was just another region, just another world.
But still, he endured.
Deimos rummaged through the portal with another extension of meat – fowl this time – before shifting into a bird himself, passing by the contortions of the wilderness, having already entangled his frame within the outlines of the tundra. The Citadel didn’t exactly declare open invitations, but it was a city, flanked in its high defenses and society entanglements, curiosity suiting him fine in drifting along the air, coasting upon the chilling winds, descending on occasion to land upon a stony fixture and watch passers-by. Distinct, piercing eyes took in the rest of the surroundings, the palace situated in the center, as if it too was encased and enshrouded in ice, in glacial wares, and then the market, the hustle and bustle amongst the cold. He stood quite still for a time, before taking flight once more, safely gliding and hovering above stalls, kiosks, and merchandise, only landing to grip a nearby wall, study, examine, and scrutinize again.
But still, he endured.
Deimos rummaged through the portal with another extension of meat – fowl this time – before shifting into a bird himself, passing by the contortions of the wilderness, having already entangled his frame within the outlines of the tundra. The Citadel didn’t exactly declare open invitations, but it was a city, flanked in its high defenses and society entanglements, curiosity suiting him fine in drifting along the air, coasting upon the chilling winds, descending on occasion to land upon a stony fixture and watch passers-by. Distinct, piercing eyes took in the rest of the surroundings, the palace situated in the center, as if it too was encased and enshrouded in ice, in glacial wares, and then the market, the hustle and bustle amongst the cold. He stood quite still for a time, before taking flight once more, safely gliding and hovering above stalls, kiosks, and merchandise, only landing to grip a nearby wall, study, examine, and scrutinize again.
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
