[SE] In the spirit of the age

Seren

Even though she might have been inclined towards keeping it quiet who the extra member of the party might be, Deimos' question erased that option. Seren was not in the habit of lying to her friends, especially not when it might cause trouble later on.

"Ru would," she sighed, "and perhaps you as well. But she's the only one with fire magic strong enough to be an option." Biting the inside of her cheek, Seren glanced at the Sword, considering. "I was thinking to ask the Fireheart." Aurelia, the new governess of Torchline. Unfortunately... it was a name and a face that came with a lot of difficulties. Scorched buildings, dead companions, attempted murder, lies and unjust interrogations lay like caltrops between two women, each at the head of their own region. It could spell disaster... but if they found a way to work together? How formidable of an alliance would it not be.

"Hotaru told me that she was capable of setting personal issues aside for the sake of politics. Was she telling the truth?" Concern pulled at her brows, and Seren loosed an arrow at a gourd when it was raised into the air. Imagined it quartered into pie, into pastry, into savory soup - flavored with a hunter's delight, rather than this bitter taste of politicking.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

Ignorant to the apprehension, there was only the slight sigh informing, obliging him with her foundations of trepidation – the missing pieces coming together. He hadn’t known any names attached to the Arbiter back when Hotaru had informed him of who’d struck the beloved companion down. Hadn’t been a witness. Hadn’t seen the crackle of lightning. Only the end results; Ru’s rage, striving to cull the murderer, and the General being made aware of the woman’s continued existence. The Torchline turnover, given to the women (Maeve, whom he’d never met) and Aurelia hadn’t struck him as anything more than a well-timed event. It might’ve made things easier had it taken place much, much sooner.

But with it all clambering to fruition, Deimos insinuated his own heavy, long-suffering sigh. “Aurelia? She was the one that killed Atlas?” Craving the confirmation on a wrinkle of his nose, on the furrowing of his brow, and the slight frown washing away any trace of prior humor. He hadn’t had any issue with her prior to the unfurling circumstances; they’d explored and trained together. She’d been strong and capable. He wasn’t sure what to think now – but maybe that could be said for him as well. He’d certainly disappointed many people.

He withheld the second sigh threatening to unwind from his chest, turning his sights back to obliterated pumpkins, dropping again when the assault gleaned from her bow. “Perhaps, though this is a precarious situation.” Having known the Valkyrie for two lifetimes, there was potential to go either way. They’d assembled politics in the blink of an eye, on the perils of war, setting differences off to embankments when necessary with other lands – but this was a far more fractured cause. “If they came to some terms, arrangements…,” the Sword shrugged, uncertainty in his bones. “But I will not speak for her.” Presumptions could only go so far.

Restless now, he lifted the gourds higher and higher, so they squawked when they neared the ceiling of the chamber, and then he brought them back down, as if they were riding along a breeze. On other notes and factions, he emblazoned another magic, sending a range of stones and rocks in bursting, contorting whims, laying waste to one pumpkin; decimating and flickering to pieces along the ground.

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

"Yes," came the confirmation. Aurelia, Arbiter, now ruler and Fireheart. Unicorn slayer, recipient of a soul-bonded's rage onto the brink of death, yet revived and ressurected before Mort could claim her. A precarious situation, and Seren blamed neither women for being distrustful of the other. But there came a point where she would have to look beyond personal grudges. This mission... was such a time.
"I will talk to Ru. Aurelia doesn't have to come within eyesight of the Citadel, and father will be there too... and no one has to be friends or hold hands. Just put up with one another long enough to do what we came for. I wouldn't even consider her, if I thought there was any other fire mage available of her strength that was also loyal to Mother. Now that Morgan is no longer an option..." She shrugged, and raised a brow to Deimos. To hear complaints or considerations, if he had alternatives to offer. "Unless of course you think you'd be able to break open the Sea of Glass all by yourself." Her tone was light, mildly teasing; half a question, too. Could he? Would he be enough on his own? Seren would believe him if he claimed so, because the Sword knew his own strength best.

Pausing in her shots to admire the havoc he wrought amidst the deranged pumpkin patch, Seren felt the frustrations of the situation build up. Even here, even now when she was supposed to be letting loose and blowing off steam did she keep mulling over these never ending problems.
Fingers tightened around the grip of the bow, squeezing until the limbs ached. The pain felt good. Better than the helplessness. On an impulse, the girl tucked away her precious new weapon into shadowed realms and starry islands, and launched herself abruptly down the slope. New wolves shimmered into being by her sides as she skidded and stumbled off towards the gourds, overcome by the need to erupt.

"I. HATE. POLITICS!" she screeched, and kicked a gourd with all her strength. Not a lot, granted, but enough to send it flying. "I hate being ignorant! and weak and ToO YOuNg to UnDErsTanD!" Burning now, seething and boiling over with all the accumulated frustrations of a season's chaos, she took it out on the poor pumpkins. Dipping down, she snatched up a gnashing, snarling squash and smashed it with everything she had into another. They broke apart with a hollow sort of 'bonk' that sent fruit meat and juices flying every which way.
"Everyone should just get the fuck along! Is that so hard?"

A sharp pain stabbed through her ankle: a tiny gourd the size of her balled up fist had snuck past the guardian wolves, and had lodged itself onto her leg. Letting out a foul curse worthy of the roughest Torchline sailor, Seren shook it off and stomped it into the ground.

Some guiding star she was.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

The finality silenced him into brooding; eyes glancing over flailing gourds but not truly seeing them. Too many platitudes, multitudes, anarchies, and menace rested between those unsaid sentiments. Deimos would be the first to admit to his own capabilities in pettiness, judgment, and grudges; but he could set them aside. His ferocity was patient, could come in other moments. Ru was an entirely different being. “I am capable of working with an adversary.” Had done so several times over, with those like Wessex and Sunjata; agreeing to disagree to ensure tasks were accomplished. Nor did he have any intention of ruining Seren’s quest – and he wasn’t an individual to admit to his multitudes of power, or how much prowess came in their footholds of control and precision. The arch of his brow said as much. “Do what you must,” came with a nod; for he couldn’t fathom any other alternative at the moment. The tipping point would be with Ru.

Contemplating reaches of incantations to utilize next – wielding, experimenting, plunging – he didn’t expect the sudden outburst from the demigod. The Sword ceased movement entirely, except for the widening of his eyes, the pumpkins still remaining in the air frozen in place – as he watched the unleashing of screeches, screams, howls, and kicks. Took it all in, from smashed gourds to hollow sounds, to the pummeling, decimating, seeds and pulp – a veritable bloodbath but in orange.

Still standing atop the knoll, he withheld a laugh, because it really wasn’t terribly funny; he loathed politics just as much as the next person, despite being involved in them multiple times in multiple lives. It was tempting to join in a rally of unfurling composure; but he kept his so under wraps and so bottled up that the monolith only exuded a calm might over the rush of Seren’s storm. “And who said you were any of those things?” As for getting along – there might’ve been a time. When they first entered, plucked from their worlds, forced into this one; precarious faultlines, generosity, and acceptance, before everything went to gods and repeated renditions of history. “We all tried once. But people hurt one another, or disagree, and then the cycle repeats.”

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

One small mercy; at least one person could be counted on to be civil and sensible. Thank the stars for Deimos, for sound minds and for conveniently smashable gourds.

When his voice reached her, it was perhaps a fortunate thing that none of the suppressed mirth shone through. Where she stood in the midst of the carnage, Seren managed to look quite ferocious. Gore dripped from hands and boots and the slender shoulders heaved, more from the raging emotions than real exertion. Storms were raging in those devastating eyes of hers, and the flashing teeth brought her smile over the edge into something brutal. Maybe stars were only beautiful when seen from a distance.

"Oh, no one says it to my face, but it's all there in their eyes," she hissed. Directing a star-wolf forward with a commanding gesture, she looked on with a dark sort of pleasure as it savaged a slew of minature plants. Its twin had taken to nosing the injury on her leg, and the pain slowly dissippated along with the shallow bite marks - very convenient, this healing. "They're all so very considerate and unwilling to burden me with their dirty little problems and secrets, and when they finally let me hear what they have to say my advice is taken with these humoring smiles, like they're looking at a toddler taking its first steps." Hotaru came to mind, in particular. Maeve too, and even Deimos to an extent, though he was better than them by far in that aspect. She couldn't say if it was about respect, or because he didn't feel that motherly need to protect her. Gods, if she wasn't grateful for it, either way. "I am being told that things are certain ways, but very few do me the courtesy of explaining why, and I feel like I'm constantly teetering on the brink of understanding without ever quite seeing the whole picture."

The sticky dampness on her hands was quickly growing dissatisfying. As the euphoria of cutting loose dissippated, Seren looked about her, at the chaos and destruction she had wrought. Remorse was a film clinging to the back of her throat - not so much for the lives taken, vampiric and strange as it might be - but rather for losing control over herself. When gourds kept coming in to gnash and mutter and grumble at her, she began to dodge them instead, to dance her way on light feet back towards Deimos. The leap she took to scale the brink was aided with a pulse of gravity alteration, light and airy and much too wide for any normal person to manage.

With a grimace, she flicked seeds and pumpkin guts at the man - halfway between tease and taunt. "I'm angry and frustrated, and I don't know what to do about it. I want to help the people around me, but they're all so caught up in their own storms of hurt and hatred that nothing I say gets through. I can't make anyone listen, and it leaves me feeling weak. Some days, I wish I never asked my mother what my purpose was - because I was so much happier before I knew how far I have left to go."

Utter honesty, offered with confidence that it would go no further. Few were offered a glimpse of the girl beneath the smiling facade, but there she was now. Young, petulant, greedy and trying very hard to grow up too fast.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

The Sword listened; back to those pinnacles of calm dispositions, breathing, another sounding board even when he didn’t have all the answers. Ferocity matching ferocity, his cool, cold dominion out in the midst of this star-emblazoned one, wouldn’t have benefitted anyone. Restless in the lack of movement and motion, he pulsed several shards of ice, into a few remaining, floating gourds, and left them hanging there, contemplating, weighing out options in the middle of tirades and riddles.

“So what do you want to hear? You cannot bear everyone’s burdens either.” Ignoring the fact that he willingly did the same; took them on his shoulders, on his spine, carried to the ends of the earth, without ever truly taking the trials and tribulations off. There were better stretches, where he could alleviate the shards, where he could shy away from the oblivion, more and more now with boundaries instilled and parameters extended. But there was lesson embedded in there for her too. “Sometimes what is said may be true, but not at the right time.” The mind took its hours, its days, its weeks; for when people were ready to hear the fruition and veracity; in his own circumstances, it was slower, needing to sink into that skull full of machinations, might, and menace. Safrin had embedded those notions into him. And it’d taken far longer – Hotaru and Aisha doing the same. A bombardment of where he should’ve been and what he should’ve been doing – healing, instead of constantly harming his own soul.

Another rumble in his chest, a phrase exuding past his mouth that he still needed to learn for himself. “We cannot fix everything.” They couldn’t change people’s actions. They couldn’t stop and cease and desist the decisions made and weighed. They couldn’t alter pathways already long since tread. Assist, defend, protect; often that was all the Sword had to his calamity, to his power, to his prestige. “And some have to find ways to do it on their own.”

But with things being set in certain ways, with a lack of understanding, with ignorance at the forefront, the General could only feel his own slinking back in. “What do you mean?” While she rallied and forged her way back up the inclining slope, the beast took hold of the Air again, lifting the pinnacles of salvageable pulp and seeds, not forgetting their intended use; bringing them upwards to eventually place in a container of some kind.

Arching his brow as she flicked the seeds and guts back onto him, and then pulsing them back in return, he still maintained his semblance of self-possessed ease. “Then ask them if, and how, they want help.” Picking a string of pulp off his tunic and tossing it her way, indifferent to where it landed, his eyes went to the ground, to the decimated ring nearby. “They might not know, but you cannot force them to adhere to what you believe is best either.”

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

Hard truths and solid advice. Difficult to hear to someone who wanted quick solutions, but Seren listened all the same, without interjecting or flaring up again. Every question poised called for introspection, and she did him the honor of doing just that. Like she wanted others to do for her. Pause, and think, and breathe until the answers came floating up from the heart.

"It's not... so much what I want to hear, but what I want to see," she responded, and inhaled deeply of the acrid air, until her lungs were full of the Climb. Sulfur and ash, fire and brimstone and undying passion. The embers of starfire, dying and nearly gone - but she could taste it on her tongue. "You know that moment when a person's troubles suddenly stop being heavy, and the darkness gives way in a their eyes? The light that shines through when they suddenly find the way back to hope and a path forward... that's what I want. To see, and give them, and... " She made a vague gesture, losing track of what she meant.

Reaching into her pocket space, the girl withdrew a basket. It had contained an assortment of paint jars, but would serve just as well for pumpkin carcasses, and she handed it to Deimos without a comment.
"After the Slagveld, when I was upset over Atlas, I asked mother what I was here to do, if it wasn't to save the innocent. She told me that I can't save anyone. But that I'm here to help, by inspiring hope, and awe, and bright light in times of darkness. But I... I don't know how to do that. If I can't bring my friends peace by lightening their burdens, then... what can I possibly do for strangers?" The notion of just asking them was... admittedly the kind of self-explanatory thing she had never even considered, and Deimos' point sounded like a miraculous thing, utterly genius.

Even so. It was such a huge thing that Safrin seemed to expect of her, and Seren didn't feel anything at all like someone who might bring beauty, culture or knowledge to others. Not her, with her windtossed hair and bare feet, and hands calloused from swordplay, drenched to the elbows in gore. What did a wild child raised on beaches and in boxing rings know of music and dance and bringing light into the darkness of wounded hearts?

"Maybe she picked the wrong person," she mused as she ducked the seeds that came flying back, thinking of Maeve who checked so many of those boxes. "I want to be all that, you know? So she will be proud. But I don't even know where to begin, or how to stay happy myself when so many around me are troubled and sad." And if they didn't let her try to help... then Seren was lost on how to proceed.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

Quick solutions rarely came to wondrous fruition; he’d seen the truth of it in short-sighted decisions, in impulsive motions, in blowing apart an empty building, in watching the seeds of destruction sewn, but not achieve anything. One of the few times he’d ever not plotted tactics or maneuvers, and it had split him into frayed seams and strands. Only rendered vast consequences on his proportions; delivered a warning, a message, of power, of danger, of deceit, but to what point? To what end? A burnt guildhouse, a dead companion, and the inability to see the sea.

He breathed a vast inhale too, but assured it didn’t taste like ash or smoke, Air billowing, flaring, rapid and sure. Deep into his lungs, where he could form something that made sense. “Perhaps you can guide them that way, but only if they are willing too. It cannot be just for your satisfaction.” Or to ensure her own worth. Difficult lessons, answers she might not like, might not adhere to, and a forged contribution of his own faults and parallels; believing his existence sometimes only endured to ensure others could do the same. For safety, for protection, for defenses, for weaponry – but the Sword was steadily learning he could be far more than armaments and munitions, even if it was the stance he so often took. Even now, General again, sworn protector of an icy world that teetered on self-reflection, doubts, and misgivings; where his power could rend and destroy, or aid and provide.

He snorted at the basket suddenly appearing, but said nothing, taking it in his hands, lifting the pulp to begin collecting at the bottom of the woven, wicker proportions. Safrin’s blunt truths echoed, and he knew the weight of them, had similar vestiges mauled in his direction, contemplating all the while during movements and motions. “It could be by distraction. By finding something they enjoy. Listening to their worries, allowing them to vent. But that does not mean you take it all on yourself.” The seeds were scattered on top, a decent proportion, though he glanced at the wake, wondered if they needed more. “Or instilling faith.” A shrug of his shoulders; because that had always been something he’d had so little of: in himself, in the world, struggling to understand it even years into living here. Why Amalia had given him the bloom of lavender with her beliefs instilled; an item he hadn’t looked upon since they broke apart. Why he had to find and drag the semblances out of his own soul. “There is always going to be darkness here. Especially with war coming.” Tensions rising. Looming. The pressure of time. Of strength and dominion, of where allies fell and flickered, of where adversaries rankled. "And sometimes the solutions are not simple. Or there. Or ready."

The Sword lifted the seeds she ducked around, placing them in the basket too, and then furrowed his brows, knowing full well he wasn’t the best person to be delivering any of this advice. “You cannot give when you are empty.” He’d know. He tried it all the god damned time. “Find what makes you happy too. And do not let that pressure compound. I doubt your mother made the wrong decision,” a snort, a laugh, following through. All easier said than done; rallying efforts he employed, and failed with, often.

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

The implication that she sought to inspire joy in others for her own satisfaction made Seren grimace. It was probably true. No less easy to hear, but... if that was a selfish desire, then she hoped it might count among the lesser sins. At least it brought some good to everyone?

As for the rest, it offered no real answers. Indications, glimmers of light that might lead to a hundred different paths - it made her head spin with possibility, somewhat overwhelming. But it was better than her constant doubts. Heartening too, that Deimos thought her capable of even attempting to fill such a mantle. Safrin's daughter... who was she? Time and time again, Seren got the feeling that she had yet to only scratch the surface of what it meant to be who she was.

"Dad said something similar, right after I came back here," she murmured, stomping sticky gourd off her shoes. "That I should find something beyond duty... Though I'm not sure what that would be." Speculative, she followed his gaze down at the pumpkins. There were still some left down there, alive and trying in vain to roll up the slope towards them. But the herd had definitely been culled, and Seren allowed herself a small smirk in satisfaction. She had really gone off there... and it had felt good. "I like fighting," she admitted. "Training, even more. I like seeing new things, too, and meeting people for the first time. Learning, and teaching, and... I really enjoy seeing others laugh and be happy. And magic - it's beautiful, I could watch you weave it all day!" The ice, the wind, the dancing flames and his golden creations, the exhilaration of hiding under a cloak in the knowledge that eyes would simply slide off - it was thrilling, and she adored it.

"What makes you happy?" Whether Deimos believed himself good at this or not, the conversation was certainly helping her. While not exactly gleeful, her chest felt lighter and Seren seemed to breathe easier even in the perpetual smog of the Crust. The way she looked up at him was brighter too, and there was no prying in the question. Only mild curiosity - what lay beyond smashing pumpkins, weapon making and training soldiers?

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

“Something for yourself.” Far more difficult for individuals who sought out ways to help; gleaning their worth for the sanctity of others. He arched a brow, but only stared down at vampire gourds and their lack of menacing qualities, pondering all the while. Maybe a hobby. A direction that required nothing else but her own measures. Satisfaction in building her leagues and foundations. He shrugged, a sheepish grin forming along his mouth; knowing full well that he rarely found anything for himself either – short moments amidst all the brambles, nettles, and thorns of chaos. And maybe that was all they could ever do now; with foreboding consequences nestled into clearings.

Watching the creatures roll around and hiss, he postured more shards of ice, directed them downward at a fast clip; culling several others, and following suit on other patterns. Before long there wouldn’t be any left in the Crust, and perhaps that was fine. His head tilted while she listed off things she enjoyed – permitting a soft laugh to emit through the haze at the insinuations of enchantments. “Thank you.”

And for some reason, didn’t expect the same inquiry lofted back at him. Within an instant, his eyes widened. Seasons before, he wouldn’t have been able to answer it. Not truthfully. Not without scuttling or sliding away, back into oblivion, back into conjuring what was necessary for people, rather than anything his soul might require. A list appeared in his mind now though, a smile coming through; dimpled and boyish again. “Friends. Family. Fighting.” Predictable in nature, perhaps, but for a man who hadn’t had much of the former, and far more of the latter, he grasped those tethers and lines as best he could. “Mischief.” In multitudes of varieties; from launching flower crowns from catapults, to snowball onslaughts and sled parties. “Flying. Exploring. The mountains. I enjoy making things. I did not have that capability before Caido.” He rounded along the volleys of ice, permitting the pieces to collect and clatter, reform when the heat of the world around them dissipated their edges. “Magic. Training others, ensuring they can keep themselves safe, so they can become strong too.”

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

Watching his play with ice and murder, Seren smiled softly at his gratitude, and listened with interest as he rattled off his own list of enjoyments. Some of them overlaid hers - much of it, in face - until she had to wonder at the many similarities between them. Different though they were, introverted and quiet versus open and outgoing, the commonalities still bound them together in a curious way.

"It seems we both have much to spend our time on," the girl smiled. "Do you think we will worry less if we focused more on these pleasures?" She would be happy to lose herself in paintings and the wilderness, if it meant escaping the shadows of war. If only she was selfish enough to leave everything and everyone else behind... And wasn't that their greatest flaw.

"What are you going to do with the pumpkins?" she asked, after a moment of quiet. "I'll have you know, I am only profficient in cooking pancakes." Her family wasn't exactly known for their culinary exploits. Outrageous, for such food-driven people.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

Another snort rallied through his nares and chest at the question – mostly because his apprehensions, trepidations, and caring for others consumed him frequently. “I do not believe I have ever tried.” There had been spaces, pockets of time, when he’d been surrounded by love and warmth and he’d held onto every moment of it; but the concerns had still been there. The movement and motivations towards resolution remained in his mind; incapable of truly ever leaving. Not after years upon years, lives upon lives, of calculating and orchestrating. “It felt foolish, with everything else going on.” And now even more so. A shrug of his shoulders, taking a few seeds in his hand, ignoring the pulpy string still clinging to them. “But it is worth striving for.” However, he wouldn’t be able to leave worlds behind either – never had. Not until he drove himself straight into demise, bones laid in caverns, and warped away by darkness.

The seeds in his palm were immediately set to a certain temperature, the fire blazing in short, infinitesimal amounts, before they became roasted – and he picked away the edges of the goop and flung it down towards its brethren. He offered a few to Seren before taking some of his own, contemplating the nuances while he chewed. “Pumpkin pancakes sound reasonable.” Another snort, a low chuckle, tilting his head as a list of foods rambled and ambled. “Or cookies. With chocolate chips.”

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky

Seren

Delighted, Seren accepted the treat and munched away on the toasted seeds, humming happily at the lovely taste. It was pumpkin alright - no different from any other gourd she'd ever tasted. Apparently the vampiric part made no difference.

"Maybe we should try, for a bit," she suggested, still mulling over the idea of happiness and retreating from all that was grave and dark and difficult. "Leave the difficult thinking to our esteemed leaders, and just... do what we want, until they ask for help. I could focus on training and that expedition - the fun parts of it - and you... could bake cookies, perhaps? And help me get better at fighting." Seren smiled at the man; they still had a spar planned from earlier promises, and she would be more than happy to accept critique on her shooting with her shiny new bow.

The more she thought about it, the more reluctant she was beginning to feel about returning to Stormbreak. It had its upsides... but there were dark shadows looming over that place, ones she was not so sure she had the courage to face yet.

"Deimos... are you done with your task for my mother, now? This whole thing, the overturning of Halo... it was her task to you, wasn't it?"

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

DEIMOS

More seeds floated into his palm, and he continued the same actions, roasting, offering, and sharing, content with the flavor of slain vampire gourds. Listening and contemplating, vaguely glancing out over the crest, he watched her from the corner of his eye. “Maybe.” There was an obvious hesitation in the tone, as if he didn’t quite believe himself fully capable. Saying it out loud was one thing, committing to the task was another figment entirely.

As for the difficult thinking? Esteemed leaders? He managed a laugh; he cherished both his friends, but he knew Ru all too well once she got her mind rolling. “Someone has to be the voice of reason,” meant to be a joke; he figured Noah had the sensibility to keep the Valkyrie from flying off on all hinges. And maybe the Sword wasn’t that individual either, considering how many times he’d told her neither Nate or Sunjata were worth her angst, and still went to burn down the guildhouse with her. The temptation towards vehemence and vengeance sometimes altogether too great, even for a sensible, calm mind.

Another laugh as she rounded out the possibilities of his dominion towards fun; arching a brow, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps we should have a baking contest.” Clearly not serious, given the Cheshire grin that followed. “I did make Sah an oven. He should put it to some use.” As for fighting and sparing, those mannerisms were already lined up – intending to post new schedules, returns to routines and patrols, once the barracks themselves were refurbished back to his liking. “When you are ready.”

Roasting more seeds, he didn’t quite expect the next inquiry; the grin losing itself, resigning to a more habitual stoicism. “Yes.” His jaw clenched around another proportion, before those semblances flickered away too. “I asked if there was anything else that needed to be done. For now, it only needs to be maintained. Protected.” Which he’d committed to with every fiber of his being.

i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky