the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun
Smiling to Deimos - because like any child, of course he is pleased to have done something correctly - the Raeling turns to listen to their first set of instructions, muddy green eyes widening a fraction to see how the world warps and contorts around them. He's seen Deimos in action before, but mostly when he's sitting atop one of his mythical shifts; this is a different, more nuanced set of skills, and he's clearly impressed.
Perhaps it's because he's so new to the snow and its pitfalls that he's suspicious of the inclines leading up towards the 'child' they are to save, and as his eyes snag on the makeshift figure, he furrows his brow. "Is that real?" he blurts; he's never thought the Sword to be a person to put an innocent in danger.
Regardless - or perhaps especially because of - there's saving to do. "Perhaps we could lift someone up towards the ledge to get to the child?" he suggests; rather than going around, they could leverage the solid, vertical expanse of ice to their benefit?
Perhaps it's because he's so new to the snow and its pitfalls that he's suspicious of the inclines leading up towards the 'child' they are to save, and as his eyes snag on the makeshift figure, he furrows his brow. "Is that real?" he blurts; he's never thought the Sword to be a person to put an innocent in danger.
Regardless - or perhaps especially because of - there's saving to do. "Perhaps we could lift someone up towards the ledge to get to the child?" he suggests; rather than going around, they could leverage the solid, vertical expanse of ice to their benefit?
