To long

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame All of them had their faults – a precursor to being human, beings striving to stretch their way across the world. He had no whereabouts on Azrael, nor the rest of the Ascended, but if some of them had survived without the Voice’s influence, the Sword was inclined to wonder if the same had happened to the young demigod. There were other means and measures amidst the land – especially considering the latest ploy of newer (or older?) gods. Considering Kiada had chosen that walk of life, Deimos held his tongue, more intrigued than anything else. Was this to be the pattern then – to dismiss any foreign components? Taking his time, contorting into wiles, he sipped at his tea, before placing the mug down, toying with the string connecting the bag. “What do you know about the Ancients?” As for the change of heart, he permitted a slight half-grin and an arch of his brow, withholding the notion to snort. “What are your plans if you do gain the role? From what I heard, the Hollowed Grounds has seen a lot of change too.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace