[se] your chest is a wall of fire; you pick torches

DEIMOS

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

Aisha made it sound like a hobby, rather than something to readily immerse himself within. He snorted, capable of seeing, of sensing, some manner of manipulation, but wanting to believe in it just the same. Maybe it was another place amongst brethren and kin, family and friends, rather than one more threshold where he willingly threw himself out in front of others, where he shielded and sheltered. The Artisan’s Guild was long since gone – but it’d been a safe venue, where wares had been concocted, where he could work and manifest, create and contort. Monster hunting wouldn’t be the same – he’d gone on some other events before – but applying his knowledge, his experiences, in Caido, and learning from another’s (especially if anything else should ever happen again – not quite a stretch or a leap given this world) could be beneficial. So it sounded like an echo, but a promise too. “I can try, then.” Acceptance in the simplest of forms, from a soul already pulled into thousands of directions, willing and able to go to great lengths for those he cherished.

Finishing off the rest of his glass, he considered creation efforts simply for the sake of refilling the empty bottle – and then shrugged, doing so anyway, quietly, contentedly, conforming the vastness into the rich liquid once more. Only thereafter did he arch his brow to gauge her reaction to the water horse, pausing in lines of a furrowed brow and further thought. “Just be careful. It did not seem happy when I declined.” Though it could’ve been a combination of all the other rooted resentments flickering around the abyss.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I