fracture patterns in knuckle bones

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Given the way the season had been going so far, time was measured in political strains, information gathering, and striving to move towards ongoing plots and plans. Ultimately that had meant less time in one of his preferred places – but today he ensured the route to the barracks was lined with movement and motion, greetings to his fellow Shields, and the composition of things to come.

Duels and spars, skirmishes and blades, were managed, and perhaps time with his family, and now his kindred spirits in soldiers, had been enough to motivate and aspire again. Knowing his time would be short, it’d only been a few entanglements in magic and blades, before a round along the climbing wall, and then back to his office. Hair tucked messily in a bun, he’d aimed at stoking the fire within the well-defined space of desks, chairs, tables, maps, and scrawled outlines of plans, bookshelves stocked with a wide variety of war materials, aiming for the flames to be quite a bit higher, based on his incoming guest.

He'd already sent ahead a messenger and guide towards the skyport (who likely would be harassed by Dantalion – but the warrior had been prepared in that regard) to get the Ancient here - and then they could get started.

DEIMOS

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

If by harrassed Deimos means urged to hurry before Danta is out in the cold for too long and freezes into a rock then yes, the Maverick has spent a good deal of time harrassing his messenger and guide. And unfortunately he isn't in the right sort of mood to take in the sights, such that however Halo looks and what her people are up to is none of his business, not until he's able to admire it from within a nice, toasty warm interior building.

Ignoring anything those training in the barracks might be up to and instead making a beeline for the office his guide points out, Danta doesn't wait for the man to knock, almost pushing his way inside after stamping the snow from his boots. "What kind of region is this?" he demands through chattering teeth, pulling off his gloves with fingers already gone grey and tugging off his hat as well.

"Er, I mean. It's lovely, Deimos. Have you considered moving somewhere a bit colder, though? I don't know that this is frosty enough."

Dantalion

and the only solution was to stand and fight

He anticipated some amount of complaining and grousing, so as it all ensued from beyond the door, and within his office, the Sword didn’t bat an eye, save for backing away from the fire, clearing the area so that Dantalion could stand in front of it. “Nice to see you too,” he gave in a wrinkle of his nose, passing through portions of the office to meander over by a kettle, pouring piping hot contents within mugs and tankards so the Ancient could take his fill of his preferred beverage. “Thank you for coming.” He had mentioned he could go to the Grounds; but here they were just the same.

Leaning against his desk and crossing his arms, he’d give and grant the moments for Dantalion to return to proper warmth, snorting at the comments, but handwaving them off. “How are the Grounds?”

DEIMOS

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"It will be, just give me a second," Danta murmurs, putting scarf, gloves and hat on the back of a chair and unbuttoning his coat so he might shrug out of that as well. The garment is very good at keeping him warm, don't get him wrong, but he'd quite like to not burn it, especially given that he shoves up his sleeves to plunge his fingers into the fire. "You've visited me enough. About time I returned the favour," he quips, glancing over his shoulder with a wolfish smile.

"You'll forgive me for not coming back for a bit after this though, I hope?" Once he can properly flex his fingers again, and the rest of him is feeling a little less heavy, Danta straightens up, rolls his shoulders, and gladly accepts the mug of steaming coffee. "Things are good as can be expected," he says of the Grounds, sipping instantly at the scalding beverage without a thought.

"Since the incident at Longnight, you can imagine it's a little tense," he continues, wrinkling his nose. "You mentioned plans in your letter?"

Dantalion

and the only solution was to stand and fight

At that comment, he arched his brow again; pondering whether to make a statement about Danta’s sudden selfless behavior, but kept it under wraps instead. “It is understandable,” he offered instead; much like how the Grounds haunted quite a few of them, no matter how many new layers had been placed along its thresholds.

Sipping at his own tea and heaving another long breath, his eyes narrowed. “Did you know the person?” That had wound up dead along the Grounds – wondering how many incidents tied together, or if they were bound to be something simply substantial in the wake of death and power struggles.

As far as plans, he nodded again. “We have a couple things going around presently. We have a small team ready to go to Starfall once we have acquired a flower.” Then he grabbed hold of a piece of parchment he’d been jotting notes down on, since recent intervals with Jack and Hadama. “There have been some regional suggestions as well, but I was not certain if you already had some in motion for the Grounds.” Or what the man was willing to do – and how far, now that the Family had involved his own sovereignty.

DEIMOS

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Thinking that there is nothing selfless about coming to visit best friend Deimos (though Danta ought to be careful lest his reputation as a chaotic ruffian start to tarnish), the Maverick keeps his back to the roaring fire and spends a few moments enjoying his coffee before responding, letting it warm him from the inside out until he feels well and truly like himself again.

"I never had the pleasure, unfortunately," he says of the person who had been killed. "But when the body is dumped on your doorstep, you tend to feel a bit responsible, no? Besides which, leaving it there was done on purpose. It's personal now." Scrunching his nose in distaste, the spaded tip of his tail flicks at his heels in annoyance.

Hearing out Deimos's plans, only now does Danta step away from the fire a little, raising a brow at the parchment in the other man's hands. "We have scope for further plans in the Grounds, but nothing has been decided yet," he murmurs. "I was considering making that big cannon in the Spire something that could target the Family. Bit far away to reach Starfall, though. Or even Stormbreak." He shrugs apologetically.

Dantalion

and the only solution was to stand and fight

“Agreed,” he uttered after another sip of tea, contemplating the way things had unraveled over the last season. Each attack upon Halo had been personal, the Family left little doubt to those machinations, but the Grounds struck him as peculiar. From what he’d heard and witnessed, they hadn’t bombarded or strived to do anything about their resident parasites, save for blocking them. Was this a way to place the message that everyone was susceptible, regardless?

As far as scope and plans, Deimos arched his brow, and settled in to begin writing across the paper. He paused, briefly, at the insinuation of the Spire and cannon. He snorted, shaking his head. “I can recall when that thing was full of poison,” and much more, through near-death assailments, trying to bring the whole structure down, and fending off its asinine qualities. To hear the Ascended had clearly intended to make it something lethal again didn’t surprise him in the least – presuming Wessex out of all of it – before tending to the parchment and the scrawl of ideas across it. 

The notions of a gravity bomb were detailed there, which might’ve been up his alley with the weaponry distinctions, along with refuge notions and alleviating listening (should they get ahold of some Family blood or Vox in particular). “We have been brainstorming a few. Some might be more feasible than others.” Then he scrawled a few pictures beside them, in case Dantalion preferred a more visual approach.

Handing it over, he leaned back against the desk again. “Those might be something you would be interested in.” And if not, at least the notions had been extended in his direction.

DEIMOS

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Full of poison?" Danta's eyes glitter darkly at that, the Maverick clearly thrilled at the prospect that his region's resident phallic tower had been even more of a pain in the ass than it currently is. "I've been neglecting it all this time. I'll make sure to go and pay more attention to it after I get home." What's a man without a large appendage, after all?

Sipping more slowly at his coffee now and lingering beside Deimos as he writes and then adds more visual depictions of the plans - something Danta sincerely appreciates, though of course he says nothing about it - the Maverick tilts his head to the side and slides the parchment further towards him to examine it. "Deimos, I am always interested in things that can make other things explode, you know that," he almost purrs, drumming his fingers along the paper.

"I'll chat to Kiada about it. She's got a more even head for these sorts of things, even with the wedding making her a little unhinged. We'll make a decision and I'll have her let you know what we're planning?"

Dantalion

and the only solution was to stand and fight

Deimos made no mention of how he would’ve liked to topple that damned tower and assist in its complete and utter destruction – but years had separated him from its colossal threshold, and now it only carried some very melancholic and traumatic memories. Snorting at the statement, he waited instead for Dantalion to peruse the highlights, figuring at one point or another he’d segment on something he’d considered worthwhile, or merely out of the Grounds’ range.

He allowed a laugh, perhaps the first in many days, to echo at the response. “Fair enough. And certainly let her look it over.” Kiada had been known to make some intriguing decisions in the past, but she knew how to survive, and had grown more levelheaded in the years that followed. “And thank you. Then it can help us in making choices as well.” Whether or not to pursue the springs and all its detailed notions – or curve elsewhere for the time being.

DEIMOS

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Then we have a plan. Or a plan for plans at least," Danta says with a satisfied smile, drinking the rest of his coffee and setting the empty mug down on the edge of the table. "I hope you don't mind if I keep hold of this? It'll be easier to explain to Kiada what you've told me, else I'll start embellishing things - or adding poison, since it'll be on my mind." Tipping Deimos a wink and giving the paper a brief wave, the Maverick spends a moment or two folding it into a surprisingly neat and tidy square, before tucking it away in the inside of his coat.

"Right. With business chat over, I'd love it if you could give me a tour of these fine barracks without me ever having to leave them. I'd like to stay warm for a bit longer if you don't mind, before I'm carted off in the cold back to the skyship." Flashing a fanged grin towards the Sword, Danta drifts off towards one of the windows now to peer outside. A fine snow is already falling, but he can make out some of the structures. And that's more than enough for now, thank you.

~FIN

Dantalion