DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
The sharp contrast bolstered against his senses; the charmed grace of Safrin soon to follow. Glancing towards her, he granted another bow and a grin. “You as well,” and though it’d rarely be for himself, he was content to unfurl whatever was necessary for his region – snagging at the opportunities available to them. Once her inspection of the offerings seemed to be declared respectable, any remaining tension pilfered away from his frame, and he was left to listen.
When the tasks were anointed, he nodded, committing them to memory – of trenches around the Citadel, of celestial-related materials, commissions towards a guild, and their own altars to house Safrin’s light. “It will be done. Thank you, as always,” he granted, always content to show what the wintry region was made of – full of might, vigor, and determination; and soon, some additional warmth.
[FIN]
When the tasks were anointed, he nodded, committing them to memory – of trenches around the Citadel, of celestial-related materials, commissions towards a guild, and their own altars to house Safrin’s light. “It will be done. Thank you, as always,” he granted, always content to show what the wintry region was made of – full of might, vigor, and determination; and soon, some additional warmth.
[FIN]
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
