[se] in the armory of your soul

NOAH

set a fire for tomorrow
set it to your woes

Noah's intentions were foiled as Morgan appeared behind him, melting his snowball to nothing. "Hey!" Noah guffawed, turning his torso towards the Warden. "Well," He brought his arms up to shrug, head tilting some with the motion, "I'm just here to keep the General on his toes is all!" He arms stayed up as he turned towards Deimos again, a shit-eating grin taking over reign on his face.

As he spoke with the Warden, however, defending his decisions, Deimos had conjured his own strike. Noah hadn't noticed the snow forming above his head, and it came down upon him mercilessly. The hunter groaned, still good mannered, as he lifted his arms above his head in a futile attempt at protecting himself. "Okay, okay, I deserved that."

Noah laughed as he brushed the snow from his shoulders and shook it from his hood. "Since Morgan was so keen to defend your right for a fighting chance," He shook the last bit of snow from Deimos' assault from his chest, "I'll just take a minute to get set up here." He waggled his eyebrow some, the hunter seeming to fall into his youth. He remembered oh, so many snowball fights out in this same area with the Hales and Pendragons.

feel defiance burning through my teeth
it's not enough to drag this blade across the day