[Training] renewed blades

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The Sword expected the water; a slight rise to his hackles, a wrinkle to his nares, as it swept along – turning his head to watch as the flames were put out one by one, and then, shifting quickly, abruptly, he met the wave head-on. A note of surprise yelped through him, a light bark, because he should’ve been prepared, should’ve predicted that contortion too as the showers ranged over his fur, wet and sodden. Games and amusements prevailed though, whisking away the ease of frustration that seasons and years before would’ve worn over his flesh, wondered why he wasn’t better, stronger, faster, and far more capable. He let it all slide off of him with the instinctual shake of his body, and perhaps the spray would dissuade her for a moment, before he plunged himself onward, racing, racing, racing, attempting to make up for the pause – uncertain if there was much else to be gained. A formidable dash up a nearby side street, which could always prove to be his undoing, insinuated a ducking, a maneuvering, a vicious howl rampaging through the grounds. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace