freeze the day

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame It was good to be home – away from the hustle and bustle of other regions, or in the midst of trials and tribulations. Simpler moments to sink into the breadth and scope of the open plains of ice and snow, to raise his jaw to the seditious bouts of chilling wind, to bark orders at soldiers and watch as they improved from day to day. The present outing was accompanied by Belial, Zuriel, and Erebos, though the infant strapped to his chest was outfitted in new snow gear, courtesy of an abundance of growth, a little handmade luxere-antlered hat adorning over his head and not much more visible of the child. He squealed with delight the moment they stepped onto the Greenwing’s wide-open range of color amidst the mountains and ivory; for which Deimos would have to agree, but only with a rumble of amusement. With the assigned portions by Safrin on his mind, he placed the Gambler’s Gloves near the peryton, presuming he’d be ready for mischief. “See how far you can get,” he encouraged with his own telltale smirk, and the wily companion surged, snagging them within his mouth and beginning to fly off. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

flora

Bundled up from head to toe and still looking a touch miserable about it, Flora is on her way out to the Sea of Glass. She recalls having heard about it from when her mother lived here in Halo but had never made the trip. Though Longheat was just around the corner, given the frosty temperatures the Doubletake didn't really think waiting a few weeks would make much of a difference, so off she went.

Slipping through the Citadel gates it was rather easy to make out Deimos' silhouette against the stark background of nothing. (That's what Flora saw, at least, having not yet been able to appreciate Halo's natural beauty given the fucking cold).

"Is this your version of a midlife crisis?" Flora calls out cheerfully, lifting a mittened hand and offering the Sword a brisk wave before trudging through the snow toward him. Lifting off from her shoulders Spice soured through the air, her pale white wings flapping harder than she was used to given the lack of warm air to keep her buoyant. Nevertheless she trilled a greeting to the peryton before circling back toward Flora.

let me taste your silhouette

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Perhaps one of the last people he’d expect amidst Halo would be Flora – but his brow arched just the same as she approached on the hinges of a joke. He snorted – watching as the peryton sailed off in absolute glee, before the Sword reeled him on a gust of Mastered Air and wind. The companion, thoroughly delighted all the same, hooted as he soared backwards and into Deimos’ waiting grasp – snagging the gloves back into his palms. “Hope not.” There had to be better ways to have a crisis, midlife or otherwise. Considering there was always something overwhelming and irritating, those aspects of life had almost become normal. “Quest requirement from Safrin,” he offered by way of brief explanation; Flora had likely done enough to understand some meaning of it. Erebos squealed too, maybe an echo of Belial’s ridiculous nature, blue eyes peeking over the sling to watch Flora before ducking away, back into the confines of warmth. While the peryton trilled to the dragon, probably searching for a friend or another to harass, the Sword tilted his head. “What brings you here?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace