[SE] wood you believe it

cover you when the sky comes crashing in

Every day there was some other nuance or issue to encounter. If it wasn’t strange dreams in the Peepholes, it was some merchants feuding amongst themselves. If it wasn’t a monster wreaking havoc somewhere in the vicinity, then it was a flock of ningos harassing an older lady. And today, it was a fallen tree. Right in the middle of a busy street.

It’d been an elderly pine, likely due to falter within one or two bad snowstorms by winter’s end. Deimos didn’t feel any remorse for the deposed monolith, even if the two, younger individuals had been pointing fingers at one another at the cause and fault (with some streak marks of blackened portions on the bark, one could guess some lightning magic and uncontrolled proportions had been involved). After discussions and wrangling adults and said children, the Sword had said he’d take care of it, and there he was.

Shaking his head, and only giving one roll of his eyes, he’d already dragged a couple sleds over, figuring there was no need for the giant portion of timber to go to waste. Thereafter, he began incantations along the top portion, beginning to utilize both Earth and Air to cut away stray branches and the canopy of needles.

DEIMOS

ISKRA

"Ahhh, she fell sooner than I expected," Iskra murmurs as he strolls up behind Deimos, the man hard at work as he drifts around the canopy of limbs and needles that he's presently working on. Goose gives one, sharp bark as if his own brand of agreement, although it likely has more to do with his thoughts on which branch he'd like to gnaw on than any sage wisdom regarding tree longevity.

Thumping the dog's head against his leg with his free hand, Iskra pets the mongrel with a rough adoration. "Glad this is all the commotion turned out to be. I was worried it was something worse than firewood offering itself up." Iskra laughs faintly, smearing the dog's ear around absently before giving one, final parting pat and then pushing forward to the tree.

"I can help," he offers, not waiting for agreement before unhooking his axe from his belt and sending it driving into the other end of branches opposite of Deimos' focus. The wood shivers against the force and the bite of the metal.

Swinging my axe, instead of sleeping
Swinging my axe, my splinters are bleeding
Swinging my axe, these cuts are too deep and I feel like I’m freezing