Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“They did,” he surmised, tending to the last brazier requiring inspection, before turning his attention towards the armory, and Marcus simultaneously, listening as the young Olson described his day – cultivating his mind, despite any frustrations with said aspect. Deimos figured everybody needed to sharpen their wits just as much as a sword; and some necessary details and scribing could be found within a tome that might not yield on the battlefield. Both were necessary – it was why he tried to ensure Erebos took up the habit as well. “Understandable,” he noted with a slight wrinkle to his nose; restlessness was akin to his normal, every-day life as well, usually battered between necessities and other ongoing perils. Nor did he take it as a slight towards Evie – she would’ve granted Marcus the assignment for one reason or another.Placing a few more blades and spears back to where they belonged, his brow arched again at the implications, muffling a snort. “I could make a deal with you – I need to use my fire magic offensively or defensively to strengthen it,” granting the lad a choice of the matter.
