Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Never one to brand his emotions into realms of cheesy, gods forbid he reflected on them at all, he tilted his head once more, giving off a snort at her presumptions. But they served as some sort of impetus and catalyst, feeding into the machinations always contorting through his brain. Still craving Halo’s outreach, while maintaining pieces and portions for Kiada, coiled, curled, through that calculating mind of his. “What about the greenhouse?” It wasn’t the threshold of any traditional venues – not the zealous threshold of the Sea of Glass – but offered comforts, complexities, and the intimate setting both craved. The only parameters and sticking points might’ve been how to get Hadama there – but certainly there’d be a pool or something he could float about in. And even if Evie’s list wasn’t long, the Sword was always willing to share his own family – as much as she was willing to tolerate their antics. Maybe, in some way, portions of the Wordsworths could be there. “If we hang lanterns, you could bring Samuel’s?” Or her parents? He didn’t know how she’d take it, but the offer was there just the same, angled slightly off-center along the notebook’s ivory parchment.
Large gatherings had been enough lately anyway with the seemingly endless piles of meetings, and so he took a sip of his cider, pausing momentarily to mire through this one as well. “What if the ceremony was small, but the reception enough for anyone else to attend?” Halovians, friends and loved ones outside of their kingdom…if they wanted one at all.
