[PQ+] the scale of ambition

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame And there it was. The General released another long breath – not a sigh, but something of a relief. Rolling his arms, stretching out the muscles through his shoulders, the weight of the moments no longer resting overwhelmingly on them, he could nod towards his fellows and be content. Satisfied. “Well done,” he uttered to each, clearing out the pathways of dust and debris with his Air incantations, watching them flicker and billow amongst the wind, until that too was dispersed and gone. Eventually he turned back towards Cordelia, the arch to his brow chiseled amongst the other far more resolute features of his face. “What were you thinking for assignments?” His jaw jutted towards one of the open windows of the tower, where someone would remain and watch. His mind was already lacquered with ideas of recruits he had that would either be eager, or voluntold, but he’d wait for the Warden’s opinion. -- Deimos dusts with his Mastered Air and asks Cordelia a question. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace