the legacies in you

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

It might’ve been easier had there been a score to settle – some vengeance and retribution, the semblance of violent upheaval and renewal, a life for a life, blood for blood. But there was naught to come from falling debris amidst a mess of war; Enzo had become a casualty too often blurred along the edges, overseen, not thought about, until it was far too late.

Sah’s statements after made his shoulders shift and spine straighten, jaw clenching and unclenching, a feathering distortion ensuring he bit back multitudes of their past. Instead, it was only a rumble in his throat, a weight seething and bearing down along backbone and ribcage; eyes peering elsewhere. “Hopefully you will never have to experience it.”

But the Sword nodded at the distinction, the uncertainty, the weight of grief, the power and potency of depression, of misery, wasn’t something he’d openly discuss, and certainly not about Ru’s condition. At the last statements though, he could readily agree. “Exactly.” Supportive statures in the maelstrom; ports in the storm.

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

yet my blood renders me a King

Sah nodded, brow pinched grimly, "Indeed." Once was already once too many. He found his gaze involuntarily going off in the distance towards his home. The pups were off playing under Ilma's careful eye, yet the Abandoned couldn't help his sudden worry. His distraction made him miss the tension that passed through Deimos, too caught up in his own.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Sah unclenched his jaw. "It's not the easiest thing to do." Once more his gaze wandered in the general direction of his own pups. Glancing back at Deimos he smiled sadly, "I need to go check on the twins. I'll catch up with you later?"

Sah

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

It took more than a moment to twist his eyes away from the horizon lines, to not fall into that residual sway of melancholy and anguish. At Sah’s words though he flickered his gaze back to the Abandoned, granting and giving a nod in assurances, in unspoken words, in upcoming trials and tribulations. “Of course,” and from there they could depart. With companions in line, with some manners of understanding holstered between them again, and the lingering uncertainties of Hotaru – but perhaps, in time, the latter could be given more than just consternations and dread – capable of winding along the roads of Halo and brightening them for the better.

{FIN}

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead