DEIMOS
There were moments of hesitation, even if he could be easily swayed by airs of mischief and promises of sedition. His eyes flickered back and forth, from the path, to the barracks, and to the hall, as if the call of responsibility and duty wove in a vicious game. They tackled his mind and scurried along the denizens, pondering over everything left to accomplish, if he’d had enough time to ensure sanctity amidst the citizens for the next hour or so, or if he was already bending to the age-old, primordial wakes of what he’d used to be. Buried and burrowed and hollowed out from days, months, and years of placing everyone else above, and himself below. Of caving in.
It was only the residual thought of last moments that spurned down his spine and caused a heaving breath, the acceptance, the notions, that it was okay to have more than a few moments spent in Evie’s company and not careening around Halo. Or sketching out another design. Or implementing another weapon. Or scolding renegade warriors. Or –
“And what would that be?” As he took steps forward anyway, following, steps still feeling all the more weighted down as they wandered past shops and houses, towards endless snowy paths and ruins.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
