Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
The quip in return eased some of the apprehension, a quick roll of his eyes giving way to a half-grin. “Tempting,” echoed from the rumble of his tones, but then there was the door, and Kiada’s presence rampaging into the house. He snorted, not surprised by the antics but grateful she’d made it there at all, content that the magic along her coat had worked. Maneuvering forward, if only to ensure the fire in the hearth was blazing for the Ancient, he smirked, nodding. “You are welcome. How long did it take you from the skyport?” Eternally calculating the schematics and minutes, of course, so that they knew and understood the limitations; while still in jocular form.Ru’s appearance thereafter inspired only the arch of his brow – watching, waiting, the pragmatics behind meetings once more leaving the trepidation into the edges of his straightened, rigid spine. Leaving their conversation about the Flood well behind them, he patted her on the shoulder as he began to move back towards the stove. “Thank you.” Leaving her and Kiada to tend to their emotions, the Sword kept it simple, one hand extended towards the counter. “Ursur steaks for the main course – what are your preferences?”
Arranged on the surface were already salads and rolls, warmed and crescent with slabs of different butter proportions, along with potatoes, glaze on the side for anyone who gleaned for more sweetness. Beverages ranged from water, tea, coffee, or Evie’s curated wines, something she should be proud to show off. “Blackberry cobbler in the oven,” and he winked towards the Harpy for the indulgence. “Evie can give you a tour if you want, while I finish these off,” extending a motion of his jaw towards the meat.
