In my stomach is butterflies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Nodding and dutifully waiting, the Sword instead inspected his bag of holding, adjusted his furs and gloves, and by the time she’d arrived again, was more than ready to begin winding his way back up the streets. Long strides and familiar pathways meant the walk didn’t take long, though he adjusted his pace so she wouldn’t be left scampering behind. Arriving at the barracks came along with the sounds and echoes of the soldiers dueling and skirmishing their way through the outer training grounds, and he waved and jutted his jawline towards them. A few raised their swords and shouted in return, others were too absorbed, and his eyes instinctually traveled across their movements and motions, mind taking in where his instruction would be unfurling next. In the meant time though, there were other duties to tend to. Belial and Zuriel had been faithfully guarding the sled (Belial had been sitting in it, Zuriel napping upright) upon their approach, and the peryton hooted loudly in welcome, scurrying upward and circling overhead. “My companions,” came by way of explanation to Elizabeth, before the carnivorous deer threatened to dive bomb anything. Zuriel looked on in her haughty, queenly demeanor, and he patted the unicorn’s nose and neck, before snagging at the straps of the loaded vessel. “There are three on this street, and two more on the next for today.” And then they were off, his strength ensuring the sled drifted easily across the snow. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace