[SWE] The Feast of Bells - 320PC

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame When nothing seemed out of the ordinary (yet), his shoulders loosened, a little less tightened through his back. Still, he cast his gaze on a number of moving elements and individuals, quirking a brow at some kids slinking their way through tablecloths, then shrugging once he and Erebos had snagged a pile upon their plates – full of sweet and savory dishes that would keep them occupied until the inevitable dirge of LongNight. “Where do you want to go?” The Sword hoped not a hammock, because he could see a considerable issue in being either entangled in one; always a little wary of the unstable proportions. He granted a nod to several others recognized and noticed, waiting for his son to make a decision on whereabouts. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace