[SE] all is not frost

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Belial had long since warned the Sword of another’s approach – though he’d gained some subtly in maturity, only mildly screeching. Zuriel extended her usual greeting with residual, nonchalant features that could’ve rivaled her bonded’s. Deimos, however, snickered at the nuance, turning his head over his shoulder and nodding. “Nearly everything in Halo keeps me busy.” Not just the Palace, nor the council hall down the road, or the barracks…there always seemed to be an endless amount to do. The lack of war now just meant he had time to concentrate on those particulars. Intending to turn back to reinforcing portions of stone or gleaning them newfound entirely, the inquiry gave him pause – an arch to his brow as he turned to give the other man focus and attention. Such a statement could lend itself to a series of possibilities, and his mind was churning already: a weapon, or something inscrutable, left behind by the Family, a threatening overture or note… A snow leopard cub, despite his endless calculations, hadn’t been amidst the parameters. Snorting, the stony features altered into the lightest of smiles, amused by the bundle of fur and reminded of the time Evie had brought Micah home, holding the creature outwards in her confusion. “Congratulations. Where did you find her?” Perhaps Damien had sought out the gods after all – or had been fortunate, stumbling into a sudden bond. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace