[Training] I still don't want to be here

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The monolith listened, a talent he’d long since mustered from childhood, his head tilted to indicate the notion while the stranger’s semblances, thoughts, trials, and tribulations were listed. Lengthy, but understandable – because they’d all gone through the murk and muck of being plucked and pulled from their own worlds years before – when the Voice thought it best to strive for those who might appeal to her perspective. She had picked wrong in his case. “The cold can be solved.” He diligently dropped down from the ladder, indicating with a tilt of his head to follow him into the barracks – Zuriel tucking in close behind, fixing Sah with a series of impassive looks that said naught but a rudimentary judgement accompanied with an imperious snort. Opening the door, he permitted Sah to step in, where the fire in the hearth raged, where there would be extra furs stored in closets – ready for soldiers embarking for patrols, missions, or mounted defenses. Zuriel quickly slipped over to the warmth of the blaze, her designated spot, while the Sword strolled over to a cabinet. “An Outlander.” He started, nodding to indicate Sah’s position in the world – same as many of them (though less now, and he fought off the thought for going much deeper). “We all started in much of the same way. Plucked out of our worlds. Weakened.” Attention remained focused on the food he retrieved, laying it out for the fellow Abandoned to peruse at his leisure, settling back on the table, leaning into a corner of its massive breadth, arms crossed, gaze unreadable again. “But over time, we regained powers, strength, or were allotted something new entirely.” Surprise after surprise, the limitations of Helovia stripped away – the Reaper manifested into more than just a being with condemnation in his soul. Not bothered by the youth’s anger, because it was a comprehensible thing, and he’d once felt the same, his head tilted. “What magic do you have?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace