who we are and all that we're trying to be
Unaware of what had caused Safrin’s smile in his direction, he took it nonetheless as some form of encouragement and approval, spine straightening as she obliged his brief request. Gilded light took over the corroded circuitry previously worn into his skin, immediately contorting it with aspects of constellations, faint, as if it had never scorched or blemished him at all. The sigh of relief was kept largely contained in his lungs, but the slightest of grins etched its way into the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
And then in his usual, residual silence, the Sword listened to the questions brought forth – of islands floating above seas, of where to go from here, of Sah’s inquiry towards the everything new (and his sudden apprehension over whether those of Ancient distinction would now be the incoming targets in the absence of the Voice).
To hear the response was another sentiment of consolation he hadn’t expected amidst the vivid dream – but it was there just the same, in the wake of breaths no longer held. Kiada wouldn’t be framed as another common adversary simply by the nature of her choice to survive. Even if Halo was inhospitable to them, at the very least she’d be allowed to live her life.
His head tilted at Maeve’s notions – for Torchline had become that for many, but then the semblances of peace flickered into the space, and the uncertainy lingered upon him again. They’d been preparing for war for years – and it was difficult to rid himself of the semblances, despite the changes and cycles all over again. So his rumble followed suit, pondering over the barest turn of phrase. “Is that where we are now? At peace?”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
