[Training] fire and ice

Deimos Deimos had come from a world that presumed everyone had magic. It was inherent, intrinsic, a force within one’s soul, an ancestry lined with prowess and precision – not to be cast away, not be demeaned, nothing to be ashamed of. It was far less natural for an individual to have naught at all, bereft, forsaken. Not until he arrived to Caido did the notion of carrying enchantments seem to be a disgrace – the lore depicting, altering, changing the way they were viewed. And even then, he hadn’t cared. He’d carved his way through the harsh whispers and the scornful snarls, indifferent, apathetic, of their misplaced zeal and fervor. He knew his abilities. He knew what he intended for them. He knew how to protect. How to defend. And he was willing to pass that wisdom on for those yearning to learn; so they too could draw similar lines, could become shields and swords and shelters. Just like now. He had no inclination towards who this Milo was, but it was good to hear that other wielders felt similar. Thereafter though, the Reaper would’ve thrived on the figment of fear apparent in her gaze, in the movement backwards. Intimidation had been its own weapon, to stalk, to maul, to tear, to heed the warnings he ensued. But the Sword didn’t comment on it, because he understood the eaves of terror, and only pressed, only encouraged – And tilted his head at her actions, watching, witnessing, as the instinctual decree seemed to invoke its wake into her. The flames, from their matches, surged and ascended in a blaze of a punch (which made him want to laugh, because there had to be an easier way. Perhaps it was for showing off?), before dissipating, fading, fizzling, into harmless droplets of water. The monolith did allow another faint smirk then. With a snort to follow, as she sought to cast fire back in his direction. Like a game, he did catch it, drawing the wealth of power, of control, and stopping it from hurtling straight into his chest. From there, he purposefully permitted it to grow, to billow, and then to fan out into cinders, embers, and coals. On a gust of wind, everything shifted and disappeared. Unbothered and undeterred, the monolith persisted in his instruction. “And this?” Earthen wares beckoned from the embankments, elongating into long roots, vining outward, like gnarled, knotted fingers, intending to catch at her legs, snaking along and over the pool. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime