To long

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame “Sounds like you showed more dedication than others.” Especially in the wake and aftermath of war drums and catastrophes, beings trying to rebuild and reforge after disasters, after melees of Sparkbird precisions. He shrugged his shoulders, for he wouldn’t push the issue, but considering other potential people in the denizens of power, Sunjata specifically (had he just abandoned the kingdom?), there had to be others capable and ready. “Let the people decide then.” How it should’ve always been done – if Darkeye put his name in for the running, and the world chose a different path, then so be it. He’d at least tried. As far as sovereignty amongst the mountains, he permitted a slight smile as the kettle spouted that it was ready, and he poured the hot water over the loose leaf tea amongst the mugs. “Evie and I are leading. We are okay. Halo is full of hardy people.” Passing over a cup to the cleric, watching the steam rise in varying plumes, his brow arched as he settled along a chair near the counter, listening to the rest and remnants of the bizarre story. Had Gideon not been already extinguished, Deimos would’ve thought him fully capable of the ordeal. “Stormbreak could have sent some fanatics.” It was a shame that the innocent were once more robbed of their livelihoods so many times over. “I am not certain if you will have to worry about that any longer, considering the outcome of the war.” Not to brush the circumstances under the rug, per se, but not sure if that was the priority anymore, with the Voice gone. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace