Day time... Night time!

"Excuse me, big mister! Big mister!" A young child called out, waving at Darsas as he was carefully lumbering by. She was standing on top of a playground structure of some sort

He blinks in mild surprise, pausing and kneeling down so that he wasn't looming as much over the young mortal. "Yes, what is it, little one?" She seemed... Vaguely familiar, although Darsas wasn't entirely sure why. He knows that he hasn't met her before, but there was something familiar in the shape of her eyes, the point of her chin, and in the lovely curls that frame her face. 

"You are good friends with my auntie!" The young child declared "But Mama and Papa say that you are super scary and that's why we can't visit her at her home when you are there. But you don't seem that scary to me!" 

"Oh! Are you Miss Tara?" Darsas asked, his eyes widening as to why she seemed so familiar and clicked into place "Your mama and auntie- my bonded Honey - had a big argument, before you were born about whether or not they were going to try to avoid Astartes or not. Your mama thinks that all astartes are scary, and is worried that one of us might steal you away from her." 

The young child giggles nervously, shifting anxiously from foot to foot "You're not going to steal me away from my mama and papa, are you?"

"Only if they were doing bad things to you, or letting bad things happen to you, or left you alone for a long time all by yourself." Darsas answers honestly.

"Do you pinky promise?" Little miss Tara asks, sticking a tiny finger out in his direction.

Darsas tilts his head a little "What is a pinky promise?"

"It means that you really, really mean the promise! You curl your pinky around mine, and I do the same to yours!" Tara answered, a serious expression appearing on her little face.

He blinks and nods, familiar with similar little rituals "What would you like me to promise?" 

"That you won't try to steal me away from my mama and papa! Also that you will love and care for my auntie forever!" The young child explained. 

There were a dozen ways he could twist the wording of the promise, but Darsas would rather not stress out the young child. He's both amused and rather impressed by her audacity, especially as Honey cut contact with most of her family due to their anti-astartes views, among other reasons. Not the least of which being that he could inform any Salamander Ever if he was concerned about her welfare and simply...

Sit back and watch the metaphorical and possibly literal fireworks.

"I pinky promise not to take you away from your parents, so long as they ensure your continued good health and welfare. Additionally, I pinky promise to love Honey forever." Darsas hums. He already planned on loving his beloved bonded for eternity anyways. This was no hardship to promise. He very carefully curls one of his pinky fingers around her offered one, a small smile appearing on his face as he holds the little one's pinky for several seconds before gently letting go. "Anything else, little one? Also, where is a trusted adult of yours?"

"My babysitter is over there. He's reading a book an' messing around on his phone. Bye bye big mister!" young miss Tara responds, waving cheerfully.

"See you later, little one. Please do not approach adult strangers, except in emergencies, alright? Not everyone is as kind as I am." Darsas murmurs. He does not want to scare or scar her, but he would rather not hear from Honey that her niece went missing one day, because she trusted the wrong person. 

"What is a Slushy?" Olivar asked, taking a deep breath in, and a bunch of competing scents hit him all at once. 

"Slushes are flavored and sweetened frozen water. They're also typically dyed with food safe dyes to help differentiate which flavor is what. The flavors can be very strong, but they're really good, and just the thing for sipping on, on a warm day like this one. What flavor would you like to try?" Ramiel asked, gesturing to the choices before him. 

Olivar... Didn't have the slightest fucking clue which one he might like. Most of them were dyed in vibrant colors, though there was an off-white and a light brown flavor. He felt... Lost and unsure "I... Which flavor do you like best? What would you recommend?" 

Ramiel pointed to the nearly electric blue one "I Like this one best. I've never seen a blue raspberry before, but the flavoring is delicious. I also like the cola flavor - which is the brown one over there. This lemonade flavor over here is less sweet and has some tartness to it. It's also got the least amount of sugar. But all of them are good."

Olivar nods, feeling himself relax a little. He's pretty sure that Ramiel wouldn't judge him for picking the wrong flavor, whatever that might be. He mentally shook himself. It was a simple enough decision. He could pick out a beverage. He reaches for a mid-sized cup and went for the blue raspberry flavor, carefully pressing the lever to the other side, watching the cup fill up. He released the lever before the sweet, frozen substance would overfill and spill over the sides. He tried not to be wasteful when he could at all help it. "Now what?"

"Well, first you do need a lid, and I find that drinking it with a straw prevents things from spilling." Ramiel explained, offering him one of the plastic lids, and... A plastic straw, covered in a thin film of plastic. Ramiel fills his own slushy cup, attaching the lid and removing the clear, disposable sheath for the straw he'd picked and threw it away in the trash receptacle next to the slushy dispensing machine. 

Olivar, silently grateful that the other showed him how to properly attach the lid and straw without pushing him to ask how to do it and reveal how utterly out of his depth he was in this strange time and place, mimics his brother, doing his best not to push too hard as the lid snaps into place. He flinches at the sound, freezing for a moment and looking around, waiting for a corrective blow that did not come. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, removing the sheath from the straw he'd been given and plunging the straw into the top of the cup. "Now what?"

"That depends, if you like, we can look around this convenience store to see if there's anything in here that catches your eye to try, or we can head up to the front, pay for our drinks and either head back to base, or go to a nearby park. How are your energy and pain levels?"

Olivar hesitated for a moment. He still felt oversized and too uncoordinated to try and navigate the cramped passageways without toppling at least one of them over, which would be rude and likely mean that they'd have to pay for the damaged merchandise because of his clumsiness. And... Despite the brevity of this outing, he could feel that his energy was already flagging. "I... I want to go to the park... But..." He can't keep his gaze up and at Ramiel, a lump growing in his throat.

"If you need a break from walking, there are plenty of benches that are built with astartes in mind. And if you want or need to go back to base, that's fine too. All I wanted was to spend some time with you, and to show you this frozen treat." Ramiel offered, his voice gentle and expression kind. 

Olivar nodded, taking in a deep breath and letting it woosh out between his lips "Let's head back to base, and have these on the way?" The fake fruity scent did smell good - although that might just be because he very much enjoyed sugary things, and he could smell the fast sugars in this drink. 

The fog over Saltmarsh curled and thinned, revealing the familiar outlines of streets and rooftops, but the pressure—the sense of being observed—had not lifted. Atlas paused, scanning alleys, rooftops, the harbor, even the water. Bolter in hand, he calculated angles, ranges, probabilities.

Nothing.

“Where—?” he muttered, voice rough. His words hung in the damp air, unanswered.

Siros approached silently, crozius resting lightly against his pauldron. His expression was unreadable, but the chill in his secondary hearts betrayed him.

“He left,” Siros said quietly, almost a statement of fact. Not a guess, not a hope. Fact.

Atlas’s jaw clenched. “Just… gone?”

“Yes,” Siros replied. “He wanted to be.”

Ghilus, pacing nearby, let out a frustrated hum. “We combed the shoreline, the harbor, even the high streets. Nothing. No trace. No thermal. No auspex signature. Nothing. He’s… erased.”

Atlas shook his head, swallowing back the tension clawing up his throat. “That’s impossible. Someone like him… someone like that doesn’t just vanish. Not here. Not in the fog we just shredded.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Siros said, voice low, almost a growl. “He measured. He curated. Atlas, you survived. The Harvester survived. That’s all he required.”

Korio shifted uneasily, looking between them. “So… he’s still out there?”

“Yes,” Atlas said quietly, voice hardening. “And he isn’t hunting us. Not yet.”

“Then he’s hunting something else,” Ghilus muttered, his tone edged with exasperation. “We were just… an exercise.”

Atlas lowered his bolter, running a hand over the ceramite plating, feeling the microfractures, the scoring along joints. “We weren’t failures,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “But he wanted us in the equation. And we… participated.”

Siros inclined his head. “We are still variables. He has moved on. Saltmarsh is… resolved. But we are not the masters of that resolution.”

Atlas’s eyes narrowed. “Resolved for now. But we’re not finished. Not with him. Not with whatever he’s building.”

Runa shifted her weight, unease clear despite her training. “So we wait? We track? Or do we try to anticipate him?”

Atlas’s gaze swept the fogged streets, lingering on the harbor and the skeletal shapes of the shoreline infrastructure. “We prepare. We learn. But we don’t chase shadows that aren’t meant to be caught. He doesn’t want us to follow—not yet. And that makes him more dangerous.”

Siros’s expression hardened into resolve. “Then we adapt. We catalog. We endure. But we remember—every action, every hesitation, every decision we make… is observed. Measured. Recorded.”

The fog rolled back over Saltmarsh, reclaiming the streets, alleys, and docks. The town resumed the rhythm of its false security. Children laughed again. The harbor lights glimmered through mist. Sharks swam behind reinforced glass, unaware of the predator that had passed through and departed.

Atlas inhaled, forcing calm into his lungs. “He isn’t here,” he said again. “But he will be somewhere. And when he chooses to act again… we’ll see him on his terms.”

Siros rested a hand briefly on Atlas’s shoulder, a rare gesture of something approaching camaraderie. “We are not defeated. Not yet. But we must respect what he has shown us.”

Atlas exhaled, shoulders easing fractionally. The hunt had ended—for now. But the Watcher had chosen the terms. That truth hung over them heavier than any weapon, heavier than any storm.

And somewhere, far beyond their reach, the Watcher moved through new terrain, selecting the next node, calculating the next sequence, and leaving only the faintest impression that a predator had passed—and that it would return on its own terms.

The last few days of his vacation- which seemed almost boring in comparison to how much stress and action this month had been. Truly- only a month? Ah- time was a strange thing to perceive at times.  Stress and all that.

“If I find The Harvester or The Watcher- or notice their patterns pop up, I will vox you all.” Atlas tells them.

“Good, we will do the same.” Siros and the others say. 

“Safe travels back to Stone Flame. Atlas.” Lati says with a nod.

His hand is rough and calloused from years of war, the feeling of them trailing down your bare spine making you shiver slightly.

"What are you doing?" You ask. Beside you, your lover hums thoughtfully, pressing his palm a little more firmly into you as he pushes it back up towards your neck.

"I have conquered you several times over," He says. "Yet there are still walls I cannot breach."

You huff out a giggle and sit up some so that you can look at him. You can't see him all that well in the darkness of your room, but you know where he is and that's what matters.

"Is that so?" You ask, teasing. His hand rests on the back of your neck, not quite pushing you back down, but almost threatening to.

"You are a fortress most impenetrable. It's unacceptable, and I shall see you undone."

"If you wanted to have me again tonight, you could just ask, you know."

His hand moves to your shoulder and you let him push you over and roll you onto your back, giggling as he sits himself between your legs. He caresses your thigh with one hand, while the other presses into your stomach and slides up over your chest. You hum and arch your back at the feeling.

"I know your body inside and out, of that I am completely certain" He says proudly, his hand continuing upwards, over your throat. He traces your facial features with his fingers, then holds your face with an almost painful tenderness. He leans down to press his forehead against yours as best he can considering his great size. "It is your mental defenses that I cannot get through."

You hum, tilting your head up to bump his face with your nose. A silent request for a kiss he does not provide.

"Your mind is intricate and beautiful, but it hides so many secrets," He speaks softer now, the slightest bit more vulnerable than before. "Why is that? Why can't I break through you in the same way you've broken through me? What power do you hold that I cannot grasp?"

"Patience, for one thing," You can't help teasing him a little. But you, too, soften, and lift your hand to touch his face, mirroring his caress with one of your own. "Maybe I just have more to lose if you see something you don't like."

"You are perfection beyond anything I could design and build with my own hands. Even despite whatever flaws you believe you have. There is nothing about you that I could dislike."

"Oh, I doubt that."

He huffs and finally presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.