[SE] all is not frost

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Snorting at the young cub’s antics, he still tilted his head carefully, not ever inclined to have his hair or beard within reach (again, more lessons from Erebos). He snagged at a spare treat in his pocket, much to Belial’s dismay below, and the peryton keened a ridiculous whine, partially out of jealousy for not being held or granted favor with the jerky. Zuriel rolled her eyes through it all, as if the whole matter was beneath her. Saviors of one another had been a striking thing between the pair of them, for while the carnivorous deer was a part of their lives too, he’d never been a symbolic facet of what it meant to survive. Belial served as a reminder of the power of sheer, free will, while the unicorn was a masterful display of camaraderie and charity, the way generosity had come hand in hand. Deimos smiled at the simplicity of Damien’s words, but the statements ran far deeper than that. “I suppose,” he grinned, nose wrinkling as the cat began to curl further into him. “And now I spoil them both.” His glance went downward, to the leopard, then the deer and the mare herself, arching his brow her way. She shook her head, pretending to be dismissive, but the bond between them had gone on for many years, and he knew better than that. Touched, maybe, to be treated and catered to – but he believed she’d deserved it. They all did. “I would like to think most bonds are worth it,” at least with animals, and some with people – that if one put their time, their energy, into something, it would come out all right in the end. Simplistic, maybe, but he’d found far more friends than enemies along those roots. Looking back at the actual work to be done though, his mind focused on the task. “We had some snow pile into the palace, so I was using my magic to find the loose areas and fill them in, starting from the top.” Which meant Damien could start from the bottom if he liked. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace