What makes a home?

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

Deimos might’ve guessed, based on previous experiences, that Sah wouldn’t have known what a majority of those supplies were. But he sighed anyway, contorting another piece of parchment through his elemental facets, and began writing them down, legible and precise. “You should be able to get all of them at the market,” to which he raised his head and gazed at the window – the sun long since devoured by the evening sky. “Tomorrow.” It only made him realize how long the day had been – and he’d yet to go home and wall himself within the barracks, prepare his soul for the following morning. Something within his mind was fatiguing; the mental drain of Wardening, of calculating oven specifications, and now this particular roadblock.

This time he withheld the next sigh flickering and billowing through his chest.Tired and drained he might’ve been, but his cranium was always calculating. There were alternatives, and he was certainly hungry too. “Grab some ningos,” to which his head nodded, jaw inclining, in the direction he’d last seen the numb, foolish birds, “and we can bake those.” Much like a chicken, he supposed – it didn’t always have to be desserts.

As for turning the contraption on? The beast angled forward, to where he’d placed a knob, a switch, to turn. Standing aside so Sah could view the action, the monolith clicked it over once, and waited for something to happen.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I