DEIMOS
That Chulane offered to help was not a surprise; Deimos might’ve been counting on it, given the potential for upheavals at any given time. But he also had no intention of taking advantage of the farmer’s benevolence. He’d already assisted the Sword effectively more than once in previous seasons, between dragging him out of death’s dirges, or observing him from afar to ensure he didn’t do something very asinine in the wake of illnesses and afflictions. Thank you he permitted to coast and ghost through instead of the other, tumultuous, tempestuous weights. Perhaps none of the apprehensions would come to fruition, and the Sword could easily pass the title straight back to Morgan upon her return, and never have to worry about it again. Promises were promises, creeds were creeds, convictions were convictions. The accord of regrets, rue, piercing and contorting through caused the Sword’s eyes to meander elsewhere. Chulane had his reasons. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, blame him for meandering off into his own business. How many times had Deimos done the same, incapable of handling the endless, aching onslaughts? How many times had he dragged himself through the murk and mire, because he didn’t know what else to do? No need to apologize. How they survived differed from individual to individual. Chulane owed him nothing in that regard.
The tree remained the safer topic anyway; the other bird suspicious of it in turn. Halo’s lack of forest, the endless, stark wilderness available for miles to see, had been on his mind too. This spur-of-the-moment growth was bizarre, but maybe a hallmark of Frey predilections (whatever those happened to be). The encouragement of motioning closer thereafter was all the Warden required, a nod in agreement following, before his wings were unfurled, and he hastened a swift, quick leap, intending to circle over the crowd.
What is it for? was his initial inquiry, though he didn’t expect the other man to know either. The giggling, the wiggling of the boughs, from overhead was bizarre and ridiculous, and he was half-tempted to dig his talons into it just to gauge a reaction.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
