cover you when the sky comes crashing in
He considered the contortion and creation of said enchanted sleds; easy to accomplish with his own incantations and the thread of those within the Gilded Market. Fortune could favor the bold with however they opted to pick their chosen vessel – and if his smile took on a deviant smirk for a moment, his own reflection of boyhood, then so be it. “Easily done,” he winked, before lowering his ax in finality, listening to the satisfying plunge of serrated edges into lumber, twisting it into broken portions.
The explanation of the fire dancing made sense; finding others to train and participate might be a more idle problem. “Maybe Nina has some apprentices,” that would be willing to take on such a role, if they weren’t already employed in such a manner. But it was something to consider and chew upon, rather than circle and pace his house during LongNight’s inevitable threads.
Placing the next set of logs into the sled, Iskra’s story sounded similar to many; some of the same chords as his own. Moving away from things that offered nothing but pain or bitter memories, echoes of the past he didn’t want to pursue him – though Deimos trudged through snow on rancor and disease, an illness luring him into wandering amidst a home he’d known for a great long while, just lifetimes apart. It’d been an evasion and an escape on his own terms, and granted him the ability to mend all those broken components. “So you feel better now?” he inclined with a tilt of his head; at hoping that this wintry world had somehow healed more than just him and a few others who took solace in a realm many wouldn't dare to tread.
Glancing back at the rest of the tree, he nodded. “I can have some of the others clear the rest of the brush. Want to help me deliver these, and then we can take the rest to the Palace?” An easy place for storage, and whomever needed it after these initial rounds could snag portions at the shelter. Waiting for a response, he altered and shifted into his hellhound decrees, already taking the string in his mouth towards the heavier sled.
The explanation of the fire dancing made sense; finding others to train and participate might be a more idle problem. “Maybe Nina has some apprentices,” that would be willing to take on such a role, if they weren’t already employed in such a manner. But it was something to consider and chew upon, rather than circle and pace his house during LongNight’s inevitable threads.
Placing the next set of logs into the sled, Iskra’s story sounded similar to many; some of the same chords as his own. Moving away from things that offered nothing but pain or bitter memories, echoes of the past he didn’t want to pursue him – though Deimos trudged through snow on rancor and disease, an illness luring him into wandering amidst a home he’d known for a great long while, just lifetimes apart. It’d been an evasion and an escape on his own terms, and granted him the ability to mend all those broken components. “So you feel better now?” he inclined with a tilt of his head; at hoping that this wintry world had somehow healed more than just him and a few others who took solace in a realm many wouldn't dare to tread.
Glancing back at the rest of the tree, he nodded. “I can have some of the others clear the rest of the brush. Want to help me deliver these, and then we can take the rest to the Palace?” An easy place for storage, and whomever needed it after these initial rounds could snag portions at the shelter. Waiting for a response, he altered and shifted into his hellhound decrees, already taking the string in his mouth towards the heavier sled.
DEIMOS
