To transport some wood

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The welcome caught him by surprise, but then he snorted inwardly, mostly at himself, before making his way in. “Thank you.” Out of habit, his eyes instantly went around portions of the room, quick, careful perusals of threats, of potentials, never quite capable of leaving or leading his mind away from battlefields. When nothing seemed hazardous, and his spine could yield a little, his attention went back to the crackle of the fire, and the aromas of jerky and tea. Smiling a little, he nodded. “That is fine.” He hadn’t had any intention of imposing anyway. Making himself at home was a different sort of notion for Deimos, considering his was adorned with armaments, and in Evie’s case, plants, amongst their maelstrom of companions, plans, maps, and books. Taking a chair, he settled himself in, curiosities beginning to form all over again. “How long have you lived in Halo?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace