I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Unaware he was a fixture of research or study, he only ceased momentarily in his task, dragging the long threads away from the glass, when a voice called out. Turning his head over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in his own predacious inquisition – for he had no recognition of the man. Strangers in Halo were few and far between, as the Warden made it one of his many duties to know his people, and he’d never seen this individual in his life. Wondering if that meant some level of threat, or merely someone just passing through, he remained guarded, unyielding, mildly suspicious; a primordial way for Sword and Reaper.
Even if the man was striving to be helpful.
“If you want,” echoed on a rumble first, jawline jutting towards the entrance, where the lacing and crisscrossing of threads had intermingled around the doorknob as well. Then, without much preamble, because he had to start somewhere, he began peeling more silk from the window, piling it along his feet. “Who are you?” Not hostile, but certainly stoic and reticent, waiting for information to slide into place.
Even if the man was striving to be helpful.
“If you want,” echoed on a rumble first, jawline jutting towards the entrance, where the lacing and crisscrossing of threads had intermingled around the doorknob as well. Then, without much preamble, because he had to start somewhere, he began peeling more silk from the window, piling it along his feet. “Who are you?” Not hostile, but certainly stoic and reticent, waiting for information to slide into place.
DEIMOS
