[SE] all is not frost

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame While his wings permitted hovering, Deimos’ range could be extended to greater heights – loosening the earthen incantations into deeper grooves and chiseled away sections. It would’ve been impossible to see or notice from below, but here, amidst all the pitfalls, he shook his head, eyes narrowed and focused on the task. Stone swept back in to where ice and snow had crept after many years, erasing the wrap and erosion, and tending to the outcroppings of rock and monuments. After a while though, he could hear Damien announce the venture coming to a close below – meaning they’d have to meet somewhere in the middle. “All right,” he conjured, intending for the rumble and agreement to volley downwards on a resonating volume. So he slowly meandered downward, ensuring that each area had its newfound cast and iron; no more drafts and surprises for whenever the rooms were utilized and occupied. Eventually he came towards the middle – snorting as Belial circled overhead – and sought the same credentials, touching over the dissolved or crumbled fixtures, seeking out the weakened, deteriorated scraps and funneling all those incantations within. Tilting his head and pondering over probabilities, he even unleashed a trio of concoctions; from Air to Earth to Water, to ensure all the foundational efforts conquered – placed within those sanctions until they were disintegrated no more. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace