[Training] spikey snow castles

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame A genuine smile curled in the corners of his mouth as Oliver mentioned the Sword and Zuriel seeming content with one another – and they were, in a matter of truth. Capable of understanding, of comprehending, of knowing each other without words, bonded by souls and links, by heroism and even exchanges – life for life. Her loyalty, once gained, was a boon, and though the creature was proud and haughty, perhaps she had every right to be. “Thank you.” He went to scratch at the mare’s ears, and she tilted her head, easily content. “She has saved quite a few of us.” Deimos would have been dead long ago if it weren’t for her. But for the manner of Oliver’s own manifestations, he nodded once more, into the semblances of understanding. The equines weren’t for everyone – and there were multitudes of other options. Not wishing to leave a place one had known and understood for generations was unsurprising – given some options and choices in his lives, he might have done the same; dug those tenacious heels in and stubbornly, obstinately, found himself layered and lacquered into the spaces of everything he knew. But that left the rest of the worlds before them – no knowledge, no sagacity. “Maybe it is fear.” He shrugged his shoulders. They couldn’t make them leave, couldn’t convince them to stray, where they might not be under constant duress. At the agreement that Deimos was barely holding, the monolith laughed. His eyes caught the glimmer of Oliver’s powers, watched as walls were further lifted, and the wind could only scatter around the brim of the dome, pausing to flicker over powder. “Well done.” He tilted his head, a further wondering, uncertain for how long the blacksmith wanted to continue. “Has that been enough for you?” And the castle? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace