[Training] I still don't want to be here

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Things had been much the same in Helovia, in the Basin, the way territories, kingdoms, and sovereignty had treated other worlds with similar dispositions and suspicions. Unless the individual had been recruited from elsewhere, welcomed in some other charitable fashion, their guards were up – prickly, nettled, thorned, wary, heeding because of the potential circumstances around it. In some contortions, Outlanders had been a threat to anything and everything the Naturals had embodied and strived for. And perhaps they’d been right. Barriers had come down. Demons had been destroyed. Life had been opened up – along with every other terrifying nuance. The speculation and skepticism sent his way, however, caused the briefest furrowing of brows. It was comprehensible, understandable, given strangers’ ilks and experiences, to not trust the Sword. They didn’t know him. They didn’t know what he’d done here. They didn’t know what he accomplished (sometimes he didn’t either, to be fair). They didn’t know how he orchestrated safety, how he strived to protect, to shield, to ensure those within his realm of responsibility were fortified. His offers were eternally genuine because of what he’d done in his multiple lives; fostering collaboration and camaraderie on the battlefield, bolstering defenses in heartlands, seeking out precision, might, and assaults when required. “If we do not help one another, then we do not make it here.” Especially in Halo – where the environment alone could easily destroy. A true monolith now, upright and commanding, his features rendered back to their reticence, muffling the snort hidden and tucked away in the back of his throat. “I have trained many, regardless of race. It is about strengthening individuals and fortifying our land.” In whatever capacity they yearned to maintain – healers and crafters, soldiers and sleuths, spies and daggers, masters of their roles and reigns. As far as ominous, forbidding individuals of the future? Deimos was not one to underestimate anyone – he’d learned that quickly in training for war, flattened on the ground or obliterated by a comrade in basic intervals. Whether Sah would be one of those could only be by compelled by time and instances, experiences, growth, and immersed thoughts, along with whatever the hell managed to happen in these worlds. No smirk or snicker beheld, the beast merely cast off the statement. “Threats are dealt with.” He’d leave that up to Sah’s interpretation. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace