who we are and all that we're trying to be
The pending season, one of potential devastation and ruin, brought forth ideas, ruminations, and calculations required by their government positions. Already his mind had schemes reeling from prior years, circumstances, and experiences in discussions with Safrin. There were a number of tangible threads, possibilities, and seams they needed to navigate, and it was likely better to apply them sooner rather than later; thoughts of how to prepare looming.
He wandered into the midst straight from his routines and chores along the barracks and the Artisan’s Guild, bag still over his shoulder, maneuvering into the Artist’s Sanctuary, finding Rexanna along the couch. A swift nod, a quiet scrutiny, noting the parchment and paper in her hands, but the somewhat tired expression – pretenses she might have hidden from those who didn’t know her well. Except Deimos and Rexanna had lifetimes of history, and he tilted his head a fraction, a hushed whisper ricocheting from his throat, almost inaudible in case anyone else walked in. “You all right?” He took a chair nearby, waiting, placing his sack down on the floor.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
