I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos had learned how to read people too – but in an analyzing, scrutinizing, examining way of battleground prowess and where to draw lines. His was marked in calm, flickering measures, a quiet observation made only apparent by the casual arch of his brow, before it leveled back and he glanced away, waiting for the other to forge his answer. It hadn’t been so long ago that the mere thought of any Abandoned learning how to utilize their magic had been frowned upon. Or even here, amidst these corridors, existing.
So he could understand any hesitation, even if he never wore a bit of shame for being who he was, and didn’t think they should either.
Nodding when the accord followed through, his glance remained on another book. “Then you should talk to Evie. Fairly certain she is always taking openings.” If he wasn't comfortable with returning to Halo just yet, there was always the letter option as well.
So he could understand any hesitation, even if he never wore a bit of shame for being who he was, and didn’t think they should either.
Nodding when the accord followed through, his glance remained on another book. “Then you should talk to Evie. Fairly certain she is always taking openings.” If he wasn't comfortable with returning to Halo just yet, there was always the letter option as well.
DEIMOS
