Deimos
He hadn’t been ready to venture deep into the reaches of the Citadel – not yet. A part of him would always be an Outlander, and though he’d done a great amount of good for this world, he’d also stoked a fine amount of mistakes. So he’d wandered, ventured into the barracks, bit his tongue down on things he yearned and craved to say to those still within, or itching to snag at broken remnants, refurbish, fix, because at some point he didn’t believe it was his place.
But staring into the vast scene, surrounded and pervaded by snow, by the angles of worlds and whims he understood, had anointed and felt like home. It clawed and nestled its way, lodged and immersed, and he didn’t want to forgo the fierce wind or ferocious gales, the unfurling midst or the icy vestiges. A moment taken before everything else breathed down their necks.
Noah’s appearance nearby already broke him out of the repose for an instant, the vaguest tilt of his head flickering in the other man’s direction. His brow gave its own signature arch, before he permitted a light smile to pierce through. “Like I took a lot for granted,” in truth – perhaps not cherishing it enough. Believing it’d always be there. “Or that all our work came to fruition from…,” he yielded to silence. Morgan’s death? Happenstance?
But staring into the vast scene, surrounded and pervaded by snow, by the angles of worlds and whims he understood, had anointed and felt like home. It clawed and nestled its way, lodged and immersed, and he didn’t want to forgo the fierce wind or ferocious gales, the unfurling midst or the icy vestiges. A moment taken before everything else breathed down their necks.
Noah’s appearance nearby already broke him out of the repose for an instant, the vaguest tilt of his head flickering in the other man’s direction. His brow gave its own signature arch, before he permitted a light smile to pierce through. “Like I took a lot for granted,” in truth – perhaps not cherishing it enough. Believing it’d always be there. “Or that all our work came to fruition from…,” he yielded to silence. Morgan’s death? Happenstance?
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
