[SE] become the gold

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

A majority of life, and people, were mixed in aspects of grey – neither entirely contemptuous or malicious, nor forbearing, virtuous, and holy. Neither Isilme, Helovia, nor Caido had blended themselves richly into black and white, though it wasn’t to say alternating and warring parties certainly didn’t try, pinpointing sides into declarations of vicious slander. Some days he could've lived on hatred and animosity alone. The Ascended had been much the same, in that Deimos had understood why they’d done so many things, but in the process, had lost multitudes of their righteousness and platitudes through murderous means, playing directly into Old God’s notions and tales. Even now, Stormbreak held its own lofty heights, and while they’d survived assaults and sieges, there were parallels of cruelty to break apart there too. And the Heart, and her constituents, had at least strived to take steps and right the wrongs.

They probably didn’t know half the stories, but the overarching theme was enough. Deimos stilled for a moment, before maneuvering more snow, making it a pattern while he thought. “Yes,” he gathered first, because he meant it wholeheartedly – between himself, Ru, and Evie, there’d be a formidable stance, and he’d shelter any and every Halovian, or Abandoned amidst the threshold, without complaint. He arched a brow at her response though, a grin lifting along his mouth again. Had he known she intended to watch his back (as very few had ever bothered), he might’ve been touched – instead, he unfurled a sigh. “Sounds official then.” A mild amount of mischief curled through him, if a little wild and juvenile, never too far from deviance. “I would like to know what else they have kept locked there.” Away from the prying, straying eyes of those with magic.

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I