Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
While Outlanders had brought a wealth of ignorance with them to Caido, along with a healthy dose of confusion and lack of control over their own life patterns, they’d also carried their own experiences. Whether or not those fit into Caido was another thing altogether. Deimos had hastened the violence in his bones, the quiet, unearthly, eldritch scheming in his withered heart, and the ice, the action, in his sinew, flesh, and blood. Perhaps it would eventually count for something – all their attempts, all their trials, all their hastening whims to embark along customs and traditions, and trying to remember their own. His memories of oceans and mountains, his recollections of wars, of battles, of ichor-soaked hymns, might ultimately serve some purpose. For now, he instilled those ramparts, fortifications, and accord into the marrow and backbone of the Grounds, taught them how to wield weapons and forge onward, how to collaborate when the rest of the world could not, and how to embody strength when it seemed so perilously uncertain. He clung to bits and pieces of himself, impossible to forget and forgo when multiple lives had cut, slashed, woven, sculpted, and crafted the beast before the flames.
Another god, committing that particular name to memory, either for Amalia’s knowledge or something else to stow away, frost giants looming before his eyes in imaginative whims, and notions of water elementals cast into the spinning annals of his mind. Only a smile for the deer followed. “We have luxere here in Deepfrost. They protect the Grounds during LongNight.” Memory snow had its accustomed bounds too, recalling the strange abomination wandering through the flakes and storms, serving a figment of someone’s thoughts and dreams.
While he unraveled the embers, brought the seething tower, down, down, down, allowed it to drift over the plains of water, not a single ripple on its vestiges, he listened again. Not made for stillness, for careful properties instigated a hushed laugh, understanding its nuances, since he knew and cherished several who embodied the same. He lifted his head towards the tips of canopies, the rise and swell of changing leaves, pondering the intricacies and boundaries of siblings, the need to protect and liberate in familiar strands. “If he cares for you, I doubt you will lose him.” As angry and upset the other might become, family was family. If he intended to cut her off simply because Weaver chose to reach for things other than Halo, then perhaps he’d need to re-evaluate his own goals and aspirations. The Sword didn’t know the individual though, and could not say much more. “Nothing about this world is listless, so we should not be.” It was why he provided provisions and support. It was why he grew in strength, in might, to ensure others could follow through and do the same. It was why he modeled and valued attempting, striving, and trying, to do more than remain still and broken.
Another god, committing that particular name to memory, either for Amalia’s knowledge or something else to stow away, frost giants looming before his eyes in imaginative whims, and notions of water elementals cast into the spinning annals of his mind. Only a smile for the deer followed. “We have luxere here in Deepfrost. They protect the Grounds during LongNight.” Memory snow had its accustomed bounds too, recalling the strange abomination wandering through the flakes and storms, serving a figment of someone’s thoughts and dreams.
While he unraveled the embers, brought the seething tower, down, down, down, allowed it to drift over the plains of water, not a single ripple on its vestiges, he listened again. Not made for stillness, for careful properties instigated a hushed laugh, understanding its nuances, since he knew and cherished several who embodied the same. He lifted his head towards the tips of canopies, the rise and swell of changing leaves, pondering the intricacies and boundaries of siblings, the need to protect and liberate in familiar strands. “If he cares for you, I doubt you will lose him.” As angry and upset the other might become, family was family. If he intended to cut her off simply because Weaver chose to reach for things other than Halo, then perhaps he’d need to re-evaluate his own goals and aspirations. The Sword didn’t know the individual though, and could not say much more. “Nothing about this world is listless, so we should not be.” It was why he provided provisions and support. It was why he grew in strength, in might, to ensure others could follow through and do the same. It was why he modeled and valued attempting, striving, and trying, to do more than remain still and broken.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
