Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Flames rose, ascending towards the sky, and he allowed his to hover there while she contorted the rest further, as if to shoot for the horizon. Her following comment about Naturals was perhaps the first time he’d heard such a statement: widening his eyes for a moment, before lowering them back into their narrowed, piercing onslaught. In truth, a number of those who claimed to have known better within the Grounds still managed to court disaster; none of them quite as immune to human ignorance, flaws, and defects as they yearned to believe. Maybe some never said it because of pride. Maybe some never would because no matter how much they assimilated, Outlanders would eternally be Outlanders, even if their tumbling, stumbling, and fumbling into these depths were through no fault of their own. It was all in how they navigated the world. “What else lurks in Halo, besides the ursurs, cannibals, genies, and dragons?” Best to ask a Natural after all; a quiet smirk tucked upon his features.
Then the flames seemed to cease in their ascension, and he quirked a brow back at her, following through on the inquiry with a shake of his head. “No. There does not seem to be a limitation.” He expressed the statement with a flare, a rise, of the embers, sparks, and cinders, clambering up and up and up as if to swallow and consume the clouds, then lowering it back down again. “You will get there in time.” A certainty in his words, in the stoic, reticent rumble. Because that was how it all seemed to flow, new magic, painstaking amounts of patience, practice, and then it seemed to flow constantly, a ripple in eldritch contortions.
The story and notes about her brother make him fall back into silence, a customary habit, to listen, to watch, to examine, to scrutinize, preferring to contemplate rather than muse aloud. Helovia and the Basin had brought forth ways of siblings for him, more true now that he had Hotaru and Rexanna still amongst and amidst, though they seemed to have a habit of falling into their age-old decrees of protection, vehemence, and mischief. “You do not wish to remain stagnant.” A shrug of his shoulders mauled through brawn and fabric, fire continuing to chase after ethers and vestiges. “Loss is hard, but if you remain still for too long, think of all the other opportunities you would miss.” And something about his own advice curled and gnarled in the back of his mind – his drive to shield and guard sometimes an overwhelming, overriding thing, for those he cherished. But he’d never let them not do something – just wanted to be close by, just wanted to be there so they were safe, eternally willing to throw himself upon disaster and ruin. “So you do it carefully.” And when Weaver thought herself strong enough, capable enough, then she could go on the harsher winds and the tumultuous waves.
Then the flames seemed to cease in their ascension, and he quirked a brow back at her, following through on the inquiry with a shake of his head. “No. There does not seem to be a limitation.” He expressed the statement with a flare, a rise, of the embers, sparks, and cinders, clambering up and up and up as if to swallow and consume the clouds, then lowering it back down again. “You will get there in time.” A certainty in his words, in the stoic, reticent rumble. Because that was how it all seemed to flow, new magic, painstaking amounts of patience, practice, and then it seemed to flow constantly, a ripple in eldritch contortions.
The story and notes about her brother make him fall back into silence, a customary habit, to listen, to watch, to examine, to scrutinize, preferring to contemplate rather than muse aloud. Helovia and the Basin had brought forth ways of siblings for him, more true now that he had Hotaru and Rexanna still amongst and amidst, though they seemed to have a habit of falling into their age-old decrees of protection, vehemence, and mischief. “You do not wish to remain stagnant.” A shrug of his shoulders mauled through brawn and fabric, fire continuing to chase after ethers and vestiges. “Loss is hard, but if you remain still for too long, think of all the other opportunities you would miss.” And something about his own advice curled and gnarled in the back of his mind – his drive to shield and guard sometimes an overwhelming, overriding thing, for those he cherished. But he’d never let them not do something – just wanted to be close by, just wanted to be there so they were safe, eternally willing to throw himself upon disaster and ruin. “So you do it carefully.” And when Weaver thought herself strong enough, capable enough, then she could go on the harsher winds and the tumultuous waves.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
