[SE] all is not frost

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Zuriel eyed the miniature predator with her keen senses – gaze narrowing to a fine point before she gave a dismissive snort and walked a few strides away. Belial, on the other hand, was incessantly elated by the concept of another vicious little creature in his midst, and bounced energetically at Deimos’s knee, as if yearning for the cretin to be released so he could play with it. Or annoy it. Whichever happened first. Deimos reined him in though, so his wings unfurled dramatically, with a touch of a pout, as the Sword listened to the tale. Hunting in the Fangs. Man eating snow leopards (not even remotely surprising in Halo’s midst of animals). The notions that he had gone to Frey about it, especially after their latest discussion over gods, and Damien’s reluctance to march towards a shrine, had him snorting inwardly, though the touch of his smile remained purposefully vague, there was an inkling of juvenile mischief and a semblance of ‘I told you so’. “A worthwhile quest.” And an interesting way to seal the bond – but the Warden supposed there were multitude of ways about it. The inquiry about his own made him snort though. “No. Belial’s was much simpler. Zuriel’s far more harrowing.” Shrugging his shoulders, his stare went upwards again, incantations beginning to pick at the stone anew, working on finding the cracks and crevices still weak. “I had recently gone to a shrine too, after escaping from the Spire. Was trying to find divine intervention for my friends.” Which had worked in some ways. “But when I received no answer, I turned to find a landshark chasing a unicorn.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace