The presented gift

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The General truly only knew and understood the medical college’s existence: not much else. One could presume what happened within those walls: a foundation of knowledge, occasions of wisdom and sagacity to help the greater whole. So while he fixed several targets, placing them back to where they belonged, reconstructing some semblance of order, he mused, puzzled out the answer. “I am not certain. I have never been either.” The slightest of grins, mildly impish, then a shrug to his broad shoulders. “But the point is for you to become better.” He maneuvered around, placing other weapons, bows, back to where they belonged, quivers and arrows settled into their proper accord – not expecting Sascha’s next set of words. “Oh?” Curiosity, postured in the arch of his brow, in the complexity of his machinations and calculations spiraling along his meticulous mind. Sascha too had grown amidst the chaos and clarity; new invocations, new enchantments – not unlike his fire, pulsing vibrantly along his veins. So his eyes flicked, followed, as palms were opened, as summonings took place, only mildly recognizing the ability thanks to Loren’s efforts. He wasn’t even remotely surprised, however, to find a ball of light, yellow feathers – a chick - newborn and fluffy, every essence of Sascha’s presence. His smile appeared more genuine then, the lightest of laughs pummeling through, a rumble in his chest. “Congratulations. If you want to know more about summoning, you should ask Loren.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace