a rush of air

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame In between the political matters, the Starfall chaos, or the other endless barrages of dramatics, sometimes the Warden preferred the simplistic. There were always things to be done in Halo, and today’s mission was no different. Away from the office, and down along the streets and cobblestones of the Citadel, hidden from the constant cycle of letters or plotting, Deimos had bundled up Erebos, snagged his companions, and took the sled and his menagerie along one of the many busy routes. He'd heard of the latest snow’s impact on traversing upon the lane, and that much was obvious as it came into view. Ice laden underneath layers and feet of snow, it had become a gargantuan crust that had multiple citizens grumbling nearby. Shovels would only do so much, and so the Sword took no issue in assisting using his magic. Unpiling Erebos from the sled, with the infant’s bright and illustrious giggle echoing, he snorted, permitting the child access to the softer, fluffier snow on the sides. In those modes of crawling and practicing standing and walking, the youth committed to the bit and sauntered immediately into the powder; unicorn and peryton descending upon him as guards respectively. Shaking his head but smiling at everyone’s antics, Deimos sought to maneuver the snow nearby, moving portions aside with his Mastered Water enchantments, easily and smoothly, deftly and easily, carving a path. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace