[Training] spikey snow castles

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos blinked, the head tilt growing vaguely more angled, very canine and feline all at once, as if the transition of shifts in his soul simply kept reflecting in his mannerisms. His features narrowed in the slightest of confusion – for he hadn’t thought of Oliver having hypothermia – but after everything else that had occurred…the response would’ve left him scratching his head. Perplexing. Perhaps they were not talking about the same things. And what had Safrin told him? That he thought of mountains and offered pebbles? A sigh hovered and breached along his chest, and he had to once again start anew. “I meant if you were fine after your letters. And LongNight.” Unaware of where the blacksmith had been staying, or that he’d been subsequently banned from the Hollowed Grounds after other accords, the General had presumed Oliver had been tucked away in hiding somewhere, waiting for something to give way. A general concern and regard for the other’s welfare. As far as the notions regarding Aisha, the beast permitted a half-smile. “She would probably like that all the same.” His brows arched, eyes widening slightly, at the idea of something fun. Mostly because he’d never really seen Oliver do anything amusing. Usually it was some semblance of panic, anxiety, and trepidation, pushing himself into corners he didn’t necessarily want to be within, or didn’t know what to do with once he was there. The monolith’s gaze went to the makeshift castle, and the thought of destroying something just because still had its juvenile tethers and hooks in him, even if he wanted to protest against the use of fire. Maybe Oliver knew him better than he thought. “Sure,” by means of acceptance. Perhaps the younger man had grown in his means of magic, and curiosity stoked a modest inquisition in the back of his mind. Thereafter, in one singular volley, the beast’s earthen incantations coiled into the ether, raising several rocks from nearby, and strived to hurl them at the structure. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace