On the Edge of Something

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Huffing on pretenses of him even remotely thinking of cheating (sometimes, though that hadn’t been the case today), the Sword rolled his eyes at his fellow combatants. “The barracks are always open to you,” he snorted, implying the level of practice could result within Halo’s reaches too – it was how all his soldiers and warriors combined precision and abilities. Unsympathetic to their plights (as he was most often with anyone he sparred with), some round of laughter escaped his chest at the notions and statements surrounding him, shaking his head once Zavien inquired. “No.” But the spar had been good-natured and boyish, not an antagonistic display of everything they could muster, and for that, he could manage a better experience in his mind when it came to Stormbreak. “I can treat you both to lunch for your suffering.” Tilting his head vaguely, and not having enough information, he would have to yield to them this time. “I presume there is some good food nearby.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace