cover you when the sky comes crashing in
The dog appeared to be an impending, walking piece of chaos, but given Belial’s own frequent antics, Deimos couldn’t make much of a comment. Instead, he quietly ducked his head and suppressed a laugh as the canine made off with its prize, before cleanly slicing through another portion of branches and tossing them into the makeshift kindling sled.
The inquiry caused his attention to deviate though, and from there the chuckle couldn’t quite be choked down. “No, not from Erebos. Some older kids practicing,” or so rumor mill and gossips had churned upon notice. “I will have a word with them later, mostly for not telling anyone it went down.” For he couldn’t be a hypocritical measure – he often implored others, and himself, to practice…just not into road ways and significant paths. Once they’d cleared out the branches, the Sword moved to settle down by the trunk, beginning to carve portions away with his earthen magic slicing through proportions, before moving to his own ax and barreling muscles and power into the motions, the clatter of logs keen and the rhythm easy.
As for best Deepfrosts yet, he granted a grin, brow arching before the explanation was freely given. “Good to hear. The skijoring seemed to bring in more people.” Either because of the chaos, potential for ruin and bloodshed, or just the jovial aspects. “Though I will always take recommendations for next year.” Trading roles for LongNight dispositions seemed worth the effort; he could recall being there once or twice for the never-ending twilight, and booze amongst bonfires was much better than what had been locked down in the Hollowed Grounds. "Any plans down there?" He hadn't heard of what Torchline had been planning, other than traditional components.
He harkened another laugh at the inquiry over Idalia. “She keeps us busy, for certain. But things are well,” if not exhausting.
The inquiry caused his attention to deviate though, and from there the chuckle couldn’t quite be choked down. “No, not from Erebos. Some older kids practicing,” or so rumor mill and gossips had churned upon notice. “I will have a word with them later, mostly for not telling anyone it went down.” For he couldn’t be a hypocritical measure – he often implored others, and himself, to practice…just not into road ways and significant paths. Once they’d cleared out the branches, the Sword moved to settle down by the trunk, beginning to carve portions away with his earthen magic slicing through proportions, before moving to his own ax and barreling muscles and power into the motions, the clatter of logs keen and the rhythm easy.
As for best Deepfrosts yet, he granted a grin, brow arching before the explanation was freely given. “Good to hear. The skijoring seemed to bring in more people.” Either because of the chaos, potential for ruin and bloodshed, or just the jovial aspects. “Though I will always take recommendations for next year.” Trading roles for LongNight dispositions seemed worth the effort; he could recall being there once or twice for the never-ending twilight, and booze amongst bonfires was much better than what had been locked down in the Hollowed Grounds. "Any plans down there?" He hadn't heard of what Torchline had been planning, other than traditional components.
He harkened another laugh at the inquiry over Idalia. “She keeps us busy, for certain. But things are well,” if not exhausting.
DEIMOS
