i'll trade you this body if you set my soul free
"I told you to come prepared." Delah said through clenched teeth and an unimpressed scowl. Glancing at the trio Amalia had brought, the warchief seems to consider for a moment before nodding. They are better to her alive than dead, and this is a small act of magic that she has time for. In her hands earth suddenly appears; clay forms the structure, mosses to help capture particles, and then a thick and silvery sort of metallic dust all held together by wet mud.
"Here." She says gruffly, handing four masks to Amalia to distribute as she will. For a moment Delah's eyes land on Deimos—the only candidate who seems properly helpful—before turning back.
Rather than walking, the fae glide to the bottom, easily avoiding the rubble.
"Here." She says gruffly, handing four masks to Amalia to distribute as she will. For a moment Delah's eyes land on Deimos—the only candidate who seems properly helpful—before turning back.
Rather than walking, the fae glide to the bottom, easily avoiding the rubble.
