Damien
you are the storm before the calm
and the ache after the silence
and the ache after the silence
Damien paused at Deimos’ warning, hammer stilled mid-swing. He wiped the grit of crumbled mortar from his fingers against his trousers and glanced up just in time to see Aria being eased from her lofty throne. She let out a small, chirping protest as if the Warden had betrayed her trust, and when Belial flashed her a smug grin from below, her ears pinned flat in dramatic outrage.
Damien gave a low, sharp whistle and the cub’s head snapped toward him, as if she’d only just remembered he existed. With an indignant mewl, she scampered across the packed snow, tail streaming, voicing her complaints with every bounding step. Damien crouched to scoop her up before she could trip over her own oversized paws, settling her against his chest.
“Alright, alright,” he murmured, voice wry but soft as she clambered up his frame with all the confidence of a born climber. Her long tail looped around his collarbone, big paws hooked carefully against his shoulders, claws sheathing just enough not to pierce through the heavy wool. Perched there, she butted her head against the side of his jaw, still muttering her grievances in little huffs.
Damien only shook his head, faint amusement flickering across his features. With his hands free again, he moved along to the next damaged stretch of wall. The snow had driven deep here too, wedging ice into seams so narrow it had split the stone apart. He set his chisel into the gap and knocked gently, precise and steady, until flakes of brittle mortar fell loose. Then he pressed fresh mix into place, working it smooth with the patience of someone used to slow, stubborn tasks.
Above, the flash of Deimos’ wings caught in the pale light as he rose toward the higher faults, Belial trailing in his wake. Damien let the sound of his hammer fall into rhythm again, Aria’s purr vibrating against his shoulder like a counterpoint, and together they pressed the Palace one step closer to weathering LongNight. "Almost done down here," he'd eventually call up, though whether Deimos could hear him was another matter.
Damien gave a low, sharp whistle and the cub’s head snapped toward him, as if she’d only just remembered he existed. With an indignant mewl, she scampered across the packed snow, tail streaming, voicing her complaints with every bounding step. Damien crouched to scoop her up before she could trip over her own oversized paws, settling her against his chest.
“Alright, alright,” he murmured, voice wry but soft as she clambered up his frame with all the confidence of a born climber. Her long tail looped around his collarbone, big paws hooked carefully against his shoulders, claws sheathing just enough not to pierce through the heavy wool. Perched there, she butted her head against the side of his jaw, still muttering her grievances in little huffs.
Damien only shook his head, faint amusement flickering across his features. With his hands free again, he moved along to the next damaged stretch of wall. The snow had driven deep here too, wedging ice into seams so narrow it had split the stone apart. He set his chisel into the gap and knocked gently, precise and steady, until flakes of brittle mortar fell loose. Then he pressed fresh mix into place, working it smooth with the patience of someone used to slow, stubborn tasks.
Above, the flash of Deimos’ wings caught in the pale light as he rose toward the higher faults, Belial trailing in his wake. Damien let the sound of his hammer fall into rhythm again, Aria’s purr vibrating against his shoulder like a counterpoint, and together they pressed the Palace one step closer to weathering LongNight. "Almost done down here," he'd eventually call up, though whether Deimos could hear him was another matter.
