The presented gift

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Small smiles again, a tilt of his head as he glanced off in the direction of the aforementioned college. “I would think so. I am certain they have an abundance of knowledge to share.” Much more than Deimos would ever be able to provide about healing, mending, or assuaging; at the opposite ends of the morality spectrum, capable of destroying and devastating without a single chord of apprehension. Normalcy in maelstroms, in havoc, in anarchy. And where they so often had damaged, broken, whittled-away beings, Sascha’s heightened experiences, capabilities, and abilities would assist them all. Plus, it would only serve to improve the other man’s sagacity and wisdom on the matter, to become better, to become brighter, to become something more than the rest of them, dragging their heels in the dust, dirt, and decay. Where they blistered and tore, Sascha shone; and it should’ve remained that way. He tucked his blade into the new sheath, admiring it briefly on a quiet laugh, a muffled snort. “We can finish up here and I will show you.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace