Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Perhaps it was better that they experienced, that they grew, that they honed knowledge from every corner of what was available to them. Outlanders with their sagacity and wisdom of other times, other places, other abilities and notions, and Naturals with their keen sense of awareness, their calm intellect towards things others couldn’t comprehend, merged and melded into something resembling collaboration. It hadn’t always been that way – the first year within these wiles and halls had been something of a bristling, contorted nightmare, between acceptance, tolerance, and vitriol, measured and marked by the arrival of so many like him, and the desperation to call another place home. Vehemence had rolled like wildfire, matched only by the Merciless’s ascent, when she’d managed to unite a common front amidst foreign and accustomed, simply by their contempt and abhorrence for her policies, stature, demands, and audacity. Maybe it would continue in the same stead; or they would spread out amongst themselves, the more they found, the more portals opened, the more they chased down heaven and hell.
They hadn’t had many weddings in Helovia or Isilme. Celebrations had been hard to come by amidst wars, battles, challenges, death, and damnation. Festivals had erupted once or twice, and he’d been the sulky, brooding, lurking figure in the corner, designated for guard duty, apparently an alarming, intimidating, menacing form to some guests. Here though – Caido always seemed to find a way to dig in and find happiness, contentment, when they could; even if sometimes they were damned and doomed from the start.
Not this though. Not for the Sword and Shield.
He arched a brow at her question, genuinely uncertain what she meant – mainly because he’d never been a man of such character. Instead, Deimos was prone to roots, to fortifications, to having something and holding onto it. There was still freedom, still liberation, still deliverance, but clearly there was some other meaning behind it that he’d yet to fathom. Amalia wasn’t a cage. Neither of them were. They simply meant to bind their convictions, their trust, their devotion, into ceremonies – not much else besides the wearing of rings would alter, would change. The promises had always been there. “No,” he shook his head and laughed, as if the sentiment was foolish. “Is that customary in Halo?”
They hadn’t had many weddings in Helovia or Isilme. Celebrations had been hard to come by amidst wars, battles, challenges, death, and damnation. Festivals had erupted once or twice, and he’d been the sulky, brooding, lurking figure in the corner, designated for guard duty, apparently an alarming, intimidating, menacing form to some guests. Here though – Caido always seemed to find a way to dig in and find happiness, contentment, when they could; even if sometimes they were damned and doomed from the start.
Not this though. Not for the Sword and Shield.
He arched a brow at her question, genuinely uncertain what she meant – mainly because he’d never been a man of such character. Instead, Deimos was prone to roots, to fortifications, to having something and holding onto it. There was still freedom, still liberation, still deliverance, but clearly there was some other meaning behind it that he’d yet to fathom. Amalia wasn’t a cage. Neither of them were. They simply meant to bind their convictions, their trust, their devotion, into ceremonies – not much else besides the wearing of rings would alter, would change. The promises had always been there. “No,” he shook his head and laughed, as if the sentiment was foolish. “Is that customary in Halo?”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
