they found your bones

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame His jaw clenched, and he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, clarity brimming over his mind as the traumatic events continued to unfold, one by one, flickering back and forth. Forming sense out of nothingness, veracity in the hollows of shadows, in the Fangs’ caverns, in the way life had taught and unfurled wickedly. I had one flung towards me as well. And if they had to teleport from you, to me… He only knew a few with such power – and the Wraith had demonstrated it on multiple occasions. I suspect Wessex. He had no way of confirming the notion, but it was there all the same. The Sword grew silent, quiet, again as Noah contorted through his feelings. Deimos purposefully avoided his for now, because he’d had the weight on his shoulders a hundred times before and it wasn’t going to be any easier within these moments. The pivotal point of success in their rallying strides beforehand, only for it all to come tumbling down in one feral blow was the more condemning. He shifted his head so that it rested upon the bark too, lifting his eyes upwards, peeking through canopies and leaves, machinations brewing, but nowhere for them to go. If you failed them, then so did the rest of us. Gods, and how easy it would be to simply bow his head, tuck himself away, and disappear into shadows and edges. But we are not done yet, and neither are they. The people and citizens of Halo; the ones unfortunately caught and consumed by the whirlwinds of change. And maybe he said it for himself, as much as for Noah – because they had to have something to snag and snare upon when everything else threatened to dim. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace