intention erased

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He’d asked and received – except the task was beyond collecting leaves, water, soil, or bones as he’d done in the past – to the point where the more he thought about it, the more awkward the notions became. How does one approach an Ascended and ask them for an upgrade? Or to drain half their body fluid for the sake of everyone else? Battles and machinations were in his repertoire, but discourse certainly wasn’t. Unfortunately, the first one he thought of was Amalia’s sibling, someone who’d granted and given them a valuable gift for their impending marriage, and Deimos didn’t have much in way of return. Perhaps once he’d figured out how to enable his creation magic into something more, he could grant that in exchange, some form of an I owe you. But if this didn’t work, and his speech wasn’t convincing, then he could try and find someone else. He merely presumed the options were rather limited. Zuriel tagged along, somewhat amused by the entire situation or the level of apprehension layered in his bones, and without further avoidance, he knocked on the door of the bookshop. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace