always prepared

Deimos A tower amongst the assortment of people, no matter how eroding or crumbling, he managed to cut through a few throngs in order to make his way over to a series of weapons. Scrupulous, fascinated, intrigued by the range offered, the webs of his mind began to spin, contemplating efforts to manifest the same armaments at home, proffered in the shelves of the armory, glinting in potential, in prowess, in prestige, in diabolical means and measures. Different inlays with corresponding designs in deadly intricacies sparked a new branch of brambles, nettles, and thorns, and he spent some time in conversation with the mercantile owners, intrigued by their varieties and displays. With a few more words and haggling exchanged, he came away with several of the artifacts, a matching set in surprise for the Shield, before another crept up alongside him, his rank gliding across the air. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked down upon the stranger – familiar only because of their clustered stay within the Temple, with no name attached. Pondering his reason for being here, in this midst, and likely not back in the Grounds was justified; but then he could’ve asked the same of her – all of them entitled to moments of liberation after being immersed in that hellhole. “Ideas,” he noted with an arch of his brow, then kept maneuvering, parting through a group, then around other gathered near an open stall of food. “Yourself?” Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime