DEIMOS
Take me back nearly hummed and droned in his ear, in his mind, sharpening over the haze, and then he brought it back into the renderings of silence. There was naught left to go back to; the Basin was gone, the world was dead, and the sharpening of homesickness could rattle against him for an eternity, and it wouldn’t matter. Perhaps Halo would be the closest he ever came to a realm he’d sharpened, honed, and guarded, and maybe it was all he could embody now, drifting in and out of memories, of wonders, of years, of days where there’d be reckonings, and now, where he strived to learn, to understand, and to heal. One step towards, one step away, one step on the embankment of both, as if he existed, pressed, maneuvered between two kingdoms. A minor head tilt, demonstrations of his listening, spine straightening slightly at the notion of hunting luxere; withholding a sigh, a penchant for sentimentality. Had he grown up here, in the midst of this region, he likely would have been just as forthright about hunting the deer. But his experiences had hailed from barriers, immersions, assimilations, amongst the Grounds, where their inclusion, their wiles, their kindness, had been a benefit. The low rumble began once more, cloistered and curled from his chest, as the piercing slate of his eyes still never gave away from the tundra, absorbed into the starkness, into the endless ivory. “They are a great asset during LongNight, in the Grounds.” He made no mention of Auni, of Astra, and no argument beckoned from him – just the hesitation, just the lingering apprehension beginning to filter through his frame.
But he gave away no outward signs of the dread, features still impassive, body still maneuvering as if he’d belonged for centuries, following after the curves and bends the hunter pointed out. He had no say in what they preyed upon, and had no inclination to cease and desist something they’d likely orchestrated for decades upon decades. His Outlander inclinations would likely not be wanted or appreciated – and with a subtle glance towards Zuriel, he traced the same motions as Noah, waiting to see the herd. "How often do you go tracking?" Uncertain of that too - of when they opted for such maneuvers, of the timing between hunts.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
