In my stomach is butterflies

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame With no treats offered, the peryton pouted, circling around until he found a comfortable section in the sled and could enjoy the ride. Zuriel’s gaze remained indifferent, but those were forged fronts of many years spent amongst the Sword. She, for most of his time within Caido, had been one of the few capable of healing him – and through bonds and platitudes they’d kept one another alive. Her trust and loyalty wasn’t an easy thing to come by, but a complement to her stubbornness. Perhaps they were more alike than either would admit. Belial, by contrast, was mayhem, and an outlier in their makeshift roles. He couldn’t help but snort at Elizabeth’s inquiry, as some others had asked before. “Hunting, but probably for amusement as well.” Still, he glanced at the ridiculous creature with an air of fondness, before returning to the primary focus and pulling the vessel along to the initial house. “He can be quiet and stealthy when he wants.” Or was required of it, on Deimos’ orders. If the Abandoned happened to look at where the beast laid, she’d see nothing at all – incantations in his stillness. The initial stop was amongst many of the stony and wooden framed homes; the long decks and snow-covered steps allowing a place for the logs to be placed for whenever the family had time to snag them. The Warden grabbed his bundle, nodding as Elizabeth snagged another, and walked forward to place it just by the door; noticeable and ready. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace