[RQ] in the unsettled margins

Deimos

The last time he’d worked on the wall had been met with multitudes of news – he didn’t expect anything of the sort from this occasion or occurrence, and Deimos would be the first to confess he didn’t know Sah’s son well. Soleil had been far more outgoing, exuberant, and wild in her youthful abandon, while Luka had been reserved – of which the Sword could understand wholeheartedly.

Still, he didn’t intend to make it awkward for the younger man. Dragging his sled along, with his companions alongside, his eyes went to the supplies amidst the vessel, before rounding back upon the Accepted. “Thank you for helping,” a tone and conviction he firmly meant – the walls were encompassing, massive, and some of their first defenses against threats to their wintry world. That Luka had been willing to assist in the matters meant multitudes to Halo at large. “How are you doing?” First and foremost, before they could meander to the true matters at hand.

Like the slight hole that had formed at the base of this side of the wall.

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight

Luka

Let's draw a line between us, paint a map back to the start
Leaving footprints to remind us -

Luka is not naturally predisposed to feeling or even being awkward, so he approaches the situation with the same level-headed focus he normally retains. While Warden Deimos inspires great respect, and as such makes him feel eternally small and foolish at his side, there is some gratitude to be had in being paired with the man when his skills so vastly outpace Luka’s. Hopefully it would ensure any lackluster performance would be bridged swiftly, leaving the wall better off.

“Of course,” he intones seriously, “whatever I can do to help.” His days are usually spent in the service of others, but they are admittedly usually odd jobs or tasks for neighbors. They adore him now, but it’s nice to do something with a wider impact. His focused expression cracks briefly into surprise at the ensuing question. Not that he believes the Warden to be unkind, but because he does not often consider himself or his own disposition in a light fit for reporting back on. “I’m well. Soleil took the destruction really hard; I’ve just been trying to support her, and our neighbors.” His family had come through okay, and selfishly, that was all Luka could care about.

Eyeing the hole in the wall, Luka kneels down and uses the handle of his trowel to thunk away at it, knocking in portions to determine where the weak parts need to be replaced and where the stronger, stabler portions remain where they can attach the compound. While kneeling he realizes - as he often does, and always belatedly - that he should probably return the question for the sake of social politeness, and looks up at Deimos from where he kneels in the snow. “And you?”

That where you go, I go
And if you fall, I fall

Deimos

His gaze flicked back and forth from the wall and to Luka, nodding his head in inclination towards assistance. It was what made Halo one of the most steadfast and stalwart lands – the level-headed determination and ability to assist one another. They’d risen to the occasion again and again, regardless of the circumstances, and while there was more chaos to unfurl and to follow, the notions that they could conquer it, somehow, existed and persevered in the Sword’s soul. Perhaps because of the confidence the people of Halo inspired. Make no mistake; Deimos had trepidation chiseled within his bones for all of them, but they were formidable and enduring.

Just like now – crouching to glance within the revealing sanction – invested in repairs and renewal.

To hear Luka was well was reassuring, but not the other notes to unravel. His brows furrowed slightly; in understanding, perhaps, of Soleil’s view on the destruction, and concern for the wellbeing of his people. “I am sorry to hear that.” A truth, as his earthen wares reached out towards the structure, feeling for unstable quandaries and positions – eyes narrowing and pinpointing on a particular section, where ice had formed and pierced. “Does she need anything?”

As for his own predilections, Deimos didn’t think harshly of any long wrought inquiries in his direction, used to drawn silences and sometimes preferring them. “I am all right,” he gave on half a smile etched into the corner of his mouth. A careful balance there too – strung about the chaos, dread, and contentment in Evie’s latest news (and only spreading it towards Kiada and Ru, for now).

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight

Luka

Let's draw a line between us, paint a map back to the start
Leaving footprints to remind us -

Luka - ever devoted to his sister - is comforted to hear Deimos' consolations and concern. Soleil had always been closer to the Warden (she didn't seem to understand the notion of not being close with someone) but it's nice to know the sentiments he's heard are returned. Deimos' magic is not something he can feel or follow, but the ice within is visible once he's closer to the ground, and Luka chips away at it determinedly before reaching for his bucket of compound to begin filling the hole for Deimos to then manipulate with magic.

"I think she's trying to find any way to atone," he sighs as he stands, flicking the remaining concrete on the trowel back into the bucket. "We've told her she has done enough, but it has yet to stick." He and his father have been at a loss as to what else might help tell her she has done enough, and though he doesn't ask, his eyes go briefly to Deimos; wondering, perhaps, if the Warden might have an idea. "She has been emptying her hurt into training and hunting. Maybe you could take her on one?" Luka has suffered enough battering, but perhaps a more fitting opponent - their Warden, the symbol of strength and guardianship of their beloved homeland - will mark a change in Soleil.

He's pleased to know Deimos is well, though he merely smiles faintly and nods firmly, content not to press. He is not nearly as curious as his counterpart, and there is plenty of wall left to inspect. Approaching the next flaw - a thin but long crack on the surface - Luka hefts his trowel yet again and begins smoothing concrete over and into it.

That where you go, I go
And if you fall, I fall

Deimos

He nodded at Luka’s adornments, waiting for the youth to finish his portion before starting his own again. The earth chiseled and formed, contorting around the mixture and compound to fill in the abyss, ensuring stability and capability for another few seasons to come. And all the while he listened, wondering why Soleil would have to make amends for anything – for she hadn’t brought any of these circumstances down around them. None of them had.

His brows furrowed, striving to understand the nuances. Perhaps he was too pragmatic. “What is she atoning for?” The loss of life? The situation at hand? The overwhelming restlessness, and the frustrating appeals that they’d yet to figure anything out? Maybe the last semblances were his own vexations and trepidations bleeding through, but he couldn’t quite fathom the stretch of her thoughts.

But at the suggestion, he tilted his head, contorting more incantations through and pinpointing another small hole as they talked. Regaining his stature from his crouch, one gloved hand went to the measure slightly below his shoulder, snorting at the opening and leaving Luka room to do his work once more, switching roles as his attention went to the aforementioned crack along the surface. “I can do that.”

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight

Luka

Let's draw a line between us, paint a map back to the start
Leaving footprints to remind us -

That is the question, is it not? Luka deliberates for a moment, though it's over notions of privacy, not from any lack of understanding. Soleil had confessed most if it in hushed whispers in the night, sitting on his bed beside him with their backs against the wall because they are too old and big now to huddle beneath the blankets the way they used to.

"Most Halovians stay where they are born. We came here young enough that they scarcely remember we're Outlanders; and our homeland was so similar, it's hardly different even to us." His trowel works as smoothly as his words. Though Luka is not prone to them, he has an even tone and baritone range that befits storytelling. "There is an expectation to remain here. Be another generation of Halovians. But Soleil is an adventurer. She received a lot of opinions about that in school." Luka frowns at the crack in the wall as if it is to blame for the way his sister's heart is now torn between two loyalties, two desires. "She was on her way to Torchline from the Grounds when the impact hit. She couldn't get on a skyboat for days. She blames herself for being away, and for returning to work already underway." It would have been easy to say this alone, but Deimos' offer to spar with his twin is already miraculous to Luka, and he will arm the Warden with as much information as he can if it allows the Sword to break through Soleil's mire of self-blame.

Turning when the crack is filled, Luka regards his Warden for a long moment, and though he doesn't smile the way some might when feeling appreciation there is clear, naked gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. Even exhausting her will help; though it will likely help me more than her," he adds with a tilt of his lips, turning away before he grins in truth as he injects a bit of brevity into their work. Soleil is notoriously chatty, and though she isn't currently, her energy is exhausting in its restlessness.

That where you go, I go
And if you fall, I fall

Deimos

Settling into the silence, the pause, in the nature of the question, he pinpointed his attention upon the next fissure; aligning earthen incantations into the structure, watching as it manifested into smooth stone overtures again. What he didn’t expect amidst the configurations was the unfolding of it all – his gaze swinging back to Luka as he spoke of Soleil and her appeals.

His loyalty was much the same – usually affixed to a certain land, driven by purpose, persistence, perseverance, always trying to make it stronger, better, more resistant to the world outside. The only time he hadn’t been completely conditioned into allegiance had been the Grounds themselves – though it could’ve been the trauma, the lack of devotion, and the mountains calling him from homes beyond these current realms. So while he couldn’t fathom traversing into another land to live and settle, he’d come to find others didn’t hold the same opinion, like Ru, or yearned for adventure – which didn’t stop him from having any – like Soleil.

“I am sorry if she feels she has to adhere a certain way here,” he murmured at first; not wanting to feel like that overbearing demon again. The Valkyrie’s justification for departing had been different – but it was fresh in his mind, and while he craved for all of them to stay, to be strong and willing and courageous alongside, his sentiments scarcely mattered in the crux of their stories.

The matters thereafter though left his features in a frown, a long, slow breath unfurling into puffs of billowing air around him. “I would probably feel the same though,” adrift and bereft at being incapable of helping, of being too late. That thought had always been enough to gnaw at his backbone, at his own misspent hours as a youth, and returning home to find nothing left of a home. “But there will always be something to do,” to make up for those times, those hours. “I will speak to her about it, if she is willing to listen,” here he gave Luka a head tilt, figuring he’d know best about the situation.

He snorted at the other implication – shaking his head before maneuvering further down the line of stone.

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight

Luka

Let's draw a line between us, paint a map back to the start
Leaving footprints to remind us -

Luka hums a sound that is mild in its disagreement. "I think she's too headstrong to feel pressured. She lives in shades of grey; she loves to travel, but Halo is home. I don't know when or if that will change. But people judge anyway." For the sin of appearing to be disloyal, or uncertain. Luka doesn't pretend to understand them. So long as she comes home, what does it matter? But then again, he is happy to stay within these frosty peaks eternally, so he isn't sure he's the best voice on the matter. But how are theirs any better, snide and inflexible?

Luka can't help but huff a laugh at Deimos' admission, which feels unkind, so he turns his face back to the Warden to make it clear his amusement isn't at the man's vulnerability. "You're a lot alike. Just not on the surface." It would seem ridiculous to compare Soleil's sun to Deimos' moon any other day, but Luka sees their similarities more clearly. It's why he is hopeful the Warden might have more luck getting through to her. "Thank you." For attempting, when he is already busy. Luka continues along the wall, occasionally stepping closer to see the curve of it for any imperceptible wear and tear that might have thinned sections otherwise invisible straight-on. "I've been considering my own career. Soleil has her adventuring; I perform odd jobs for our neighborhood, but little else." He'd entertained ideas from forging to hunting to becoming a Shield, but maybe Deimos can see more clearly where an extra pair of hands is needed as Warden.

That where you go, I go
And if you fall, I fall

Deimos

People would always judge; and Deimos was amongst them, just as much as so many others. Though his assessments and evaluations were usually for the maneuvers within battles or political machinations, Ru’s circumstances notwithstanding, and so he wouldn’t grant any of such critiques to Soleil. “And Halo will always be open to her,” he surmised instead, granting another small half-smile. Her family was embedded here, with Sah and Luka, and multiples congregating into found proportions – tight-knit and capable.

He twisted another round of earth incantations into the assembled rock, feeling it re-align under the weight of his control and command, piercing and piecing back together in sediment and granules. He would’ve concentrated more, had Luka not uttered a statement that had his head tilting again, not unlike a canine or a feline, brow arching. “How do you mean?” A curious rumble, rather than any discord or disagreement, uttering a low snort from his lungs and chest. The Sword rarely compared himself to anyone, and so didn’t draw any similar conclusions.

As for other considerations, to hear Luka was craving some other foothold brought him some pause too. Deimos frequently shaped soldiers and warriors, guild members who sought wisdom and guidance; but his role as Warden meant more than just those occupational ventures, and so he listened, contemplating too. “Depends on what holds your interest. Would you like to defend? Hunt? Track? Construct? Become a scholar? Or something else?” Those weren’t the only options, but perhaps fine-tuning the distinctions, what intrigued the youth, would find more purchase and positioning.

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight

Luka

Let's draw a line between us, paint a map back to the start
Leaving footprints to remind us -

Though Luka has no intentions of leaving Halo - far from tempted by what little he has seen beyond her borders - Deimos' assurance brings about a half-smile of his own, strangely comforted by the sentiment. Perhaps because he has lost one snowy homeland already?

Maybe it softens him up enough to be more verbose or maybe it's feeling like he has an edge over Deimos for the first time ever, but Luka expounds. "You both have a sense of personal responsibility for Halo and her people. One that is greater than any one person can or should carry." Deimos is one of its Wardens yes, but Luka is quite levelheaded and at times overly logical, and he finds their shared level of personal responsibility egregious given how much remains out of their collective control. "You're also both very passionate, even if you show it differently." Soleil loudly and excitedly, Deimos with a certainty likely earned through age and trial. "And you disregard the opinions of people who don't matter. Not many people can do that; they're too insecure." And perhaps that's the parallel he sees most clearly - a certainty of self. Luka believes he has the same, but given he's happy to stay on the outskirts of society he hardly gets any chances to prove it to himself.

"I've had enough of schooling. I hunt for necessity and I am good at it," he shares freely, completely neutral instead of gloating or humble. "I have considered becoming a Shield, but the war proved to me that it's not a necessity. Halovians will fight regardless of rank, and our strongest people are not necessarily soldiers." People like his father, Hotaru, Noah. "I am often told I'm too blunt, so I am unsure if I would be good at it, but I do like the idea of providing some form of utility to our people. Unfortunately that could be anything; forging, magical items I can seek from the gods to bless others, construction..." he shrugs, turning his hazel eyes back to Deimos for further input as he prods at another hole above his head, gesturing to his Warden when it's clear he can't reach properly to fill it.

That where you go, I go
And if you fall, I fall

Deimos

He didn’t expect the amount of reasons or their unwavering prowess from Luka; pondering if he’d been studied too. Deimos was used to being the one scrutinizing and examining, looking for edges and schemes and movements, patterns of thought or flags of reason; to believe someone else had been doing the same to him permitted a sudden snort to volley through. “I am trying to be better,” he assured, but truly the efforts had been low – since Starfall had occurred they’d all been seemingly doubling their methods of madness into ensuring safety and protection, shelter and sanctity.

Nor would the Sword consider himself passionate – too sedate, too calm, too composed – but maybe it was the experience of battle and range that sought through the definition. The disregard of others that didn’t matter to him had certainly been a learning curve, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “That comes with time, knowledge, and boundaries too.” Or maybe just his own, given Soleil’s age. “But thank you.” He’d take them as compliments and perhaps pivotal reminders.

Catching Luka’s indication about the crevice he couldn’t reach, Deimos sunk his machinations back into the fold as he listened to the other exploits and ventures. No need for schooling, already decent at hunting, meandering around the notions of soldier-dom but not at the same time, utility…pondering it further, his head tilted again, allowing for the notions that he was lost in thought and enchantments simultaneously. “Have you met any gods yet?” Because that could be a path of its own. “But we will always have need for smiths, carpenters, construction…or even mending, if you want to try your hand at assisting in the infirmary.”

you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight