I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos waited for the shock, muffling some round of laughter before her warm touch was on his skin, permitting her access to explore once more, as his eyes went upward, striving to not be distracted or deterred from processing the information. A quiet rumble began in his throat, contemplating, going over the goddess’s words carefully, methodically. “Safrin said they were like distant ancestors. Though Halo would prove inhospitable to them.” Not a repeat of the Ascended, at least for now, where it was scorned enemy after scorned enemy; but a resurgence, a renewal, perhaps. He could only shrug his shoulders, the uncertainty there – laden as much as the future could hold.
“They seem to prefer the Climb. Kiada altered into one.” And if it had meant her survival, Deimos would accept it, as he always had. “Have horns. Can shift.” Unaware of all the limitations, save for the lack of Attuned connections or any other particulars, he could only grant as much as wisdom as he’d been given.
“They seem to prefer the Climb. Kiada altered into one.” And if it had meant her survival, Deimos would accept it, as he always had. “Have horns. Can shift.” Unaware of all the limitations, save for the lack of Attuned connections or any other particulars, he could only grant as much as wisdom as he’d been given.
DEIMOS
