intention erased

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Zuriel, irritated Samuel paid no attention to her (despite healing the insipid man), sniffed, snorted, and then purposefully lifted her lips to pick at the Ascended’s hair. If her teeth caught some edges and pulled, she didn’t look even remotely ashamed. The Sword, for his part, gave clear warnings that didn’t seem to matter in the slightest to the unicorn, and on a very soft, low sigh, his eyes went back to the fluid, the jar, and the other unsaid things launched, harpooned, and lacquered in between. He would’ve stuck to the whims of this bizarre event in absolute silence, watching as the glass filled, switching out containers with hardly a fuss at all. Samuel’s apprehension and nerves seemed to resonate, ricochet, and bound though, and Deimos likely had to have a part in assuaging those fears, in alleviating some of the concern, in filling up the void with something other than quietude. “Safrin said to call for her when it was ready.” He presumed she’d embed the upgrade and fluid into the wooden frame somehow; deity prowess and powers at work. In the back of his mind he noted adding another honorific alongside Samuel’s, that of the goddess herself. She’d likely appreciate or expect it, especially if she had equal hand in the orchestration. He thought about starting on the inscriptions immediately, but then shifted, a musing, a mulling, coiled and contorted, eyes glancing upward, staring at the ceiling, pondering, weighing his options. “Do you want to hear a tale?” Something to pass the time? Something to not make the hollowed sanctions feel so profound? Then his gaze rounded back to Samuel, arching a brow at the unicorn nearby. “You may choose.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace