[PQ] leave the maul by the fireplace

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame It’d been a long time since the Sword had allowed himself to become distracted from a task. Research into anything not regarding tactical means, measures, training notations, or paperwork from his brief interim as Warden had been short-lived and inconsistent. It likely would’ve shamed his family, but he’d been busy – and so for once he relented on the portions of several journal entries, flipping through page after page about some animals, some flora, some fauna he’d yet to see or envision. Rooted in the rapt fascination, quiet and astute, he made a few mental notations, conjuring possibilities and probabilities, before he heard a stack he’d layered and bogged down offhandedly inevitably fall. Raising his head and pulled out of the tomes, Deimos discovered he’d reclined in a chair nearby, book on a table, and the stacks not yet completed. With a disgruntled sigh, and another intention of diving back into the artifacts later, he stood once more, only to crouch down and pick up the remains of the up-ended documents. Thereafter, he was far more meticulous in his work, particular in the ranges of organization, and re-established them in a more deliberate collection. -- Deimos re-stacks! master of nothing place; of recoil and grace