The swagger of the honey badger’s appearance was slightly amusing, and only because he knew who it was before Loren’s tone spiraled into their minds – an inward snicker to have procured some knowledge before the bard. Thereafter though, any pretenses of amusement were set aside for the rest of the information – the portal opening, something about Wessex (again; seemingly more than just random occurrences now with Fae guardians), half concerned the summoner would seal the portal (because winter and mountains called; siren songs of cold and glaciers), and the other half curiously glancing back and forth between the two men. The Sword had missed out on a fair amount of dramatics, for once, and grew intrigued, pondering and wondering just how frustrating, agonizing, or ridiculous this was all going to turn out to be. In their movements, maneuvering back down the way they’d come, into debris and rubble again, he simply listened, acquiring wisdom and sagacity over events he’d managed to avoid. Most he’d already been granted by Loren earlier, catching over a new name, Neron, the notions of lazy, but smart and cruel – which meant Zariah’s and Neron's claws would likely be the ones they’d need to face.
The General, for his part, had naught to add except curiosity, blending that, and only that, for the time being, within the attuned fold. Thereafter, his eyes glanced and surveyed – capable of making and manifesting several things, depending on what they wanted to do. “Last time I was here,” where they’d obliterated and destroyed the plants, but also the walls, contributing to the initial debris and danger, “I created a pulley system to get rid of the larger rocks.” Deimos’ gaze sharpened to the world above, and off to the side, where they’d gathered the boulders, where they’d tried to scrape away the enamel crushing, pressing, and weighing down on Ashetta and Remi. It didn’t linger for long. “I can make supports, or scaffolds.” Whatever they thought might be necessary.
The General, for his part, had naught to add except curiosity, blending that, and only that, for the time being, within the attuned fold. Thereafter, his eyes glanced and surveyed – capable of making and manifesting several things, depending on what they wanted to do. “Last time I was here,” where they’d obliterated and destroyed the plants, but also the walls, contributing to the initial debris and danger, “I created a pulley system to get rid of the larger rocks.” Deimos’ gaze sharpened to the world above, and off to the side, where they’d gathered the boulders, where they’d tried to scrape away the enamel crushing, pressing, and weighing down on Ashetta and Remi. It didn’t linger for long. “I can make supports, or scaffolds.” Whatever they thought might be necessary.
