[Training] more than the catastrophes too

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

“War is supposedly coming,” he rumbled, as if this was an everyday occurrence. To be fair, in his multitudes, years, and lifetimes of experiences, it nearly was; faced with calamity after calamity caused by the Voice, notion after notion spilling out in either massive barrages or small inklings, striving to be unnoticed by the populace. “Old Gods and New Gods,” was another hint; he presumed she’d know the histories of the regions, and the Grounds put behind the barrier, the Voice in her tethers until recently.

More wool, more stitches, easygoing platitudes of mending and repairing while she spoke of her mother. The woman sounded as if she still carried on in her state – and he arched a brow, ceasing to be capable of drawing a comparison to anyone he had in mind. Uncertain if he’d seen her gallivanting off through the snow upon a sled – but his head had been down lately, formulating other plans and schemes. “Would she be able to utilize a chair? With wheels?” He swallowed down a trace of bile at the thought, at the memories, of another time and place where he’d made one, ramps lined along the house, promises and vows that went and broke.

Instead of thinking anymore on that particular subject, he kept his gaze on the effigy, and sewed the stomach shut. It had a fair amount more rolls and pudginess than it had before, adding to the ridiculousness of its fractured head.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

AINO

War. The concept was not unfamiliar, certainly. War was the story of Halo's past, and war had been waged against the cold, against starvation, on cannibals and cultists for lifetimes beyond counting. But that had been a Halo struggle, quiet and contained. Skirmishes fought on sparse occasions; nothing big had ever happened until that incursion on the Citadel two years ago, and Aino had foolishly hoped that was the end of it. To plunge all of Caido into the likes was beyond anything she could imagine.
"I see," she gruffed. "Well, let the gods duke it out, then. No need to drag us into it." Her glance at Deimos highlighted a connection going beyond soldiers, beyond humans, to the spark of magic that set them apart from others. Little knowing that staying under the radar was impossible, or that allegiances had already been pledged.

The suggestion he came with this time had her stumped, however. "Wheels on a chair?" Aino blinked, staring off into the distance as she tried to picture it. "I... have no idea how that would work. But sure, probably? Anything that made her more mobile would be a blessing." For both of them. For everyone involved; it would make life easier on so many levels.

For the good times that we share,
and the bad times that we'll have

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

There was an inward flinch at the notions of no one being dragged into this mayhem. Unfortunately, they had been immersed from the very beginning: Outlanders taken in droves and placed within the barrier to free the damned Voice, and then the alliances afterward, as they scattered in droves. Armistices were all grand and genuine, but would they matter when the time came? Deimos had long since already pledged his allegiance to Safrin and the Old Gods alike; magic be damned (for he bore absolutely no shame in what he was).

But how many would think like Aino – they wouldn’t have to be involved? They wouldn’t have to prepare?

Until it was too late?

His brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and a very tightened, stifled breath escaped from his lungs, barely a plume in the air. His hands went to right the lopsided head, angling it upright, and placing a little more stuffing into its neck and shoulders; so now it truly looked ludicrous. “I do not think we will have that option,” he managed to contort eventually, still not glancing her way. It was already circling its way around Halo. Perhaps not as a tight of a noose as the Grounds, Torchline, or the Greatwood, but it was drifting inward all the same.

It was the Sword’s turn to be surprised when Aino hadn’t heard of a wheelchair; but he shrugged it off, immediately conjuring a piece of paper and charcoal into his palms, beginning with a flurry of sketches. The outline of wheels rallied, then handles and bars, outfitted with a decent cushion and backing of a regular chair – before handing it over to her. “It could give her some independence.”

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

AINO

Sensing the tension in the man, Aino glanced over and then shrugged. A desperate hope it might be, and one muttered while few were listening... but were they supposed to be cheering this on? Singing the old songs of legends and heroes, while pretending that it would not be a bloody, sad mess?
"I still hope you're wrong," she repeated stubbornly. "But if anyone brings war to Halo, then I'll do what soldiers do. Fight, and protect it." That was it. That was all. Halo was all that mattered, and gods be damned if they tried to use it for their fickle purposes.

The paper was less surprising than the quick sketches. Aino leaned in to see what he was drawing, and raised a brow at the design. She could already see her mother racing around the house in the contraption, and a quiet huff of amusement illuminated the sentiment.
"She would love it," she admitted. "Can you make this? What will it cost us?"

Gifts were out of the question, if her tone was any indication. Stubbornness and pride refused charity; but Aino was willing and able to offer much for her kin. More than fish and spars, if necessary.
A quick, thoughtful glance over the quiet, kind-hearted man had her lips pursing in thought; some of the things she'd be willing to do might not even be unpleasant.

For the good times that we share,
and the bad times that we'll have

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

She could have her hope. It would be nice to be proven wrong on this subject. He snorted once more, then stepped back to look at his handiwork. The figure was lopsided, fattened in all sorts of different, weird parts, and the proportions were clearly off. Permitting a boyish smile at the ridiculous effigy, he fully intended to leave it that way – allow someone else to cleave it in two.

But at her statement, he nodded. “I will do the same.” And for as long as he could; with every intention of striving to boot the Voice’s grasp out of the mountains, the summits, and the Citadel – away from the people who would suffer the most. He couldn’t imagine the range of sickness all over again – how costly and damaging it had been twice over. What else could she come up with? A sobering thought inclined through his ribs and along the course of inward scars – dread and apprehension, if he were to give them names.

Pushing the target back to where it was needed, and grabbing hold of the rest of his belongings and weaponry, he paused at her insinuation. Could almost hear Hotaru and scores of others telling him not to breathe those words – but it was for the good of the people, and he was a stubborn fiend. One wheelchair didn’t maul the boundaries he’d set for himself – and she certainly wasn’t Nate. “I can make it. And ramps too, if they are needed.” But the way she said cost insinuated this wouldn’t be a gift; and the Sword’s brows furrowed in thought, unaware of her trail of sentiments and ruminations. Information, perhaps; given he could no longer curtail much from council discussions. “What do you know of the Fangs and their tunnels?”

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

AINO

The training dummy would clearly never be the same, but Aino thought this new version was a clear improvement. It certainly lent itself to slaughter in a whole new way - to banish nightmares, if nothing else.

Deimos' sentiments echoed her own, and received a terse nod of acknowledgement in turn. Good; loyalty and respect were things to be earned, and he was doing a good job of both today. Whether Halo would live up to the devotion this man poured into a nation that was not his from birth... well. Why would it not?

Pleased that there would be no charity to accept this day, Aino went to gather up her belongings.
"Enough to stay away from them, not enough to be of much use if you're planning on heading in there," she replied. "They're long and winding, full of ice and rock. I hear elders mutter of mageglass hidden in old mines, and others say the white dragons make nests up there."

Humming in thought, Aino reached back in memory to old legends, tales and more recent rumors. But having never paid attention to such things outside of work, she came up fairly blank.
"If you're looking for the tunnels specifically, I know a few places we used to keep an eye on. When the cannibals were more active, they sometimes made hideouts there." Pulling on the coat, she turned to Deimos as she shoved hands into the pockets. "Want me to show you?"

For the good times that we share,
and the bad times that we'll have

We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

Deimos knew some of the Fangs. Enough of the tunnels from when the Loreseekers had wandered, enough of the caves to know and understand danger lurked in the form of white dragons, enough that cannibals had been there, but there was far more potential in the stokings of those caverns. He nodded to her insinuations, a very reticent, stoic glance written on his features, as if he’d never tread in them before.

But the offer was there, and so he permitted another edge of a smile to become rooted. “I would appreciate that.” His own coat placed back on, soldier duties committed and done for the hour – until he had to return for guard proportions. “See if your mother is fine with everything first, then we can figure it out.” A deal wasn’t a deal without everything else etched out.

DEIMOS

Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts

AINO

It was a good point. She might have to talk fast to make this idea stick with the old woman, but Aino knew her mother well enough to know where to push.

"Alright. I'll send you a note and let you know when I'm ready," she offered. Slinging the swordbelt over a shoulder, she looked to the sky to gague the time and waved casually at a few friends as she made her exit.

If there was a little extra spring in her step at the prospect of a trip outside the Citadel... well, who could blame her. It would have nothing to do with fish, and that should make anyone ready to celebrate.

- Fin

For the good times that we share,
and the bad times that we'll have