[o] [SE] One good turn

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Erebos, ever the social butterfly at the one years old, was utterly delighted when anyone waved. So he did so in return, with a goofy, toothy grin for his trouble, squealing his hellos, as Deimos snorted and shook his head. “The offer is appreciated, thank you, but I can get some for him. He can handle some of the smaller pieces.” And so he turned to begin an exchange with the kiosk owner, handing over a few coins as the infant stared back at the girl in return, trying to decide his next course of action. Perhaps that was for the best, for in the next instance the Sword had acquired several small plums, and had begun slicing off a very tiny section for the boy. Though he tilted his head in return, clearly trying to parse through which citizen this was. She was familiar – but only just so. “Are you Ravenna? From Noah’s -,” but before he could fully in part the inquiry, her highly valued piece of paper seemed to be taken by the wind; and his brow arched. With a simple volley of incantations, he released his Air magic, snagging at the parchment until it coasted and ghosted back into the periphery, then right before her. “There you go.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace