intention erased

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The questions were understandable. If Deimos were in Samuel’s position, he wasn’t certain he would’ve even accepted the assertions and trials; left them to figure out their mess in some other way. His eyes went to Zuriel briefly, a nod confirming. “She can. She helped heal Rexanna.” An action Samuel had been a part of, in the last LongNight debacle. Having someone for Samuel to drink from instigated another arch of his brow; considering he had no idea if anyone would be privy to the idea of donating upgrades or other portions of themselves, he hadn’t seen a need of procuring this rumination in advance (or at all, really – hadn’t even crossed his mind). “No,” confirmed it in a straightforward answer; presuming the unicorn’s abilities would work out fine. Following Samuel to wherever they were going felt odd, purposefully diminishing his stride, gaze occasionally on Zuriel, who ambled on behind, either unimpressed by the entire occasion or just waiting for her turn in the spotlight. While the Ascended’s inquiries were good, the Sword found himself lacking a lot of information; namely because his understandings of their race was minimal and minuscule, imparted usually by Rexanna or Wessex. How did they keep their upgrades? Were they biological parts stored somewhere? Did they work like everyone else’s magical items, to be taken away and placed back? He shrugged his shoulders, as if the inquiry didn’t bother him. “How do you acquire them?” Where did they go – in case one needed to be removed? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace