whole and apart and in-between

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He washed his hands after ensuring the surface was scrubbed down; not the table where formal plans were drawn up, but one towards the back, utilitarian in its uses. The beast laid out several clothes too, drawing long hair up, back, and out of the way, before he began plucking feathers out of the closest ningo, stuffing them in a nearby bag, intending to find a purpose for each part and portion of the sacrificial birds. The conversation, though often not welcomed simply because he wasn’t a fan of discourse, was a range of distractions, idle in deftness of his hands. The General’s brows furrowed a fraction, contemplating the meaning behind something big within the earth, and how they’d missed it the first time. Maybe the others had gone farther, reaching, reaching, reaching beyond the storm, until that figment emerged. “No idea what it could have been?” Another form of a landshark? Or were some other creature they’d yet to discover, some other monster, beast, or guardian of the dirt, loam, and soil? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

As Deimos started filling one of the bags, Loren nodded. Picking up the feathers he'd plucked, he added them to the sack as well. That done, he picked up the knife. Chopping off the bird's head, he set it aside, following by its legs, which he placed in a separate pile for stock-making.

Shaking his head at the General's question, the healer shifted his grip. Making sure he had the gland he wanted isolated from the rest of the bird, he sliced it off. "No idea. Nor do I particularly want or intend to find out." Sighing, he glanced up at the other man. "I heard you did some work on the training grounds. How did that go?"

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Feathers plucked, stored for future intervals, Deimos continued on the smooth actions of removing portions and pieces of the bird, placing his semblances off with Loren’s. Efficient with the hunting knife, the cutting was direct, forceful, and strong, and eventually he got to the portion he’d been there for all along – removing the wishbone from the ningo’s form, and ensuring it had its own area along the table, for later safekeeping. He only raised his head from his work as Loren mentioned not wishing or intending to find out about the enigmatic creature lodged somewhere in the earth. A fair presumption, though the Sword had been within this realm long enough to surmise someone would eventually go searching, seeking, or merely come upon it by happenstance. The world ricocheted and amplified in precarious, ominous depictions; only a matter of time before another roamed too close or too far. When he had nothing else to process from those nuances, he nodded with a shrug to his shoulders, eyes returning to his task. The inquiry launched toward him was met with a rumble in his tones. “It went well. Between Amun, Aisha, and I’s efforts, the walls, armory, and training grounds were fixed. I did not realize how much damage had been done.” Especially not when he hadn’t been here for the events, and sick upon arrival. “Do you anticipate any of the same issues as last year?” Too used to the demonic emblems of LongNight, too used to the treacherous, torturous debacles; he’d heard of the cultists, of the swing and alteration of politics, and one could hope that it had been an outlier, and not the normal circumstances. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Gland removed, Loren flipped the bird around. He began to make careful incisions in the Ningo's neck. Pausing, he slid his fingers inside to pull out the organs from the creature's throat. Once he'd partially removed them, he turned it on its stomach to cut away from that angle. Eventually, he was able to remove everything from that end of the bird that wasn't supposed to be there.

Pausing, he snorted at Deimos' question. "Do I think the Eirachi will blow up the Palace and send her cultists to assault us? Or do I think Zariah will sacrifice her kid?" Growling, he shrugged. "At least Zariah's dead. And there's no Palace to destroy. As for the rest of it, I'm sure there will be some disaster or another. We'll just have to pick up the pieces like we always do."

Sighing, he cut into the Ningo's gut. Eying the wishbone that Deimos held, the healer jerked his chin at it. "Remind me what you need this for?"

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The monolith drew and quartered his bird, sectioning off portions of meat, organs, and sinew they’d be able to utilize. All the while he listened, capable of rendering attention on the process and Loren’s insinuations – raising his head slightly at the snort, and then the notions and assemblage thereafter. Last year’s debacle sounded like a siege of brewing maelstroms catching, seething, and opening fire simply at the wrong time – but with Zariah intermingled within the onslaught, he hadn’t been surprised. No matter where they loomed or lived, there was always something. The circumstances and nuances around it simply changed. They persevered or died trying – and the final thought clenched over his heart, his mind, as his knife cut. A lighter note flickered through him then, an arch to his brow, a snort hastening along the midst. “We cannot forget the cannibals.” Loren’s inquiry was justified, and his eyes went briefly back to the wishbone. “I initially asked Ludo if I could take over Kiada’s quest during LongNight.” The Firebrand could mull over those fragments all he wished; the Sword didn’t want to churn into them any further. “When that was not feasible, I asked for some communication devices.” Memories of days spent lodged during the debacles, just trying to ensure everyone was safe and sound coiled through him, and the dagger’s edge slashed a little harder through the meat. “Similar to the ones we had before.” Beneficial, in the long run, if anyone was ever separated on missions and the like. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Loren let out a huff of laughter as Deimos brought up the cannibals. Pulling out the bird's intestines, the healer shook his head. "We've thinned their numbers out pretty well, but you're right we're probably due for another attack some time soon." He yanked with a little bit more force than was strictly necessary at the thought of yet another excursion to Whitebrim.

Nodding at the explanation about the task, his lips twitched. "Don't suppose I could ask you for help with my own task from the gods. Fair warning, it's from Frey and not something you'll enjoy." He inclined his head at the wishbone the General had taken. "What else do you need for the devices?"

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame In Deimos’ experience, one adversary was enough to conjure more. To incite derision, to coax rebellion, to toss and topple regimes; he’d seen it clearly, concisely, in the rabble and ruin of kingdoms. Cannibals left to remain, restore, and re-forge, was just another incident waiting to happen. There was not much time or resources to do anything about it now, but a notion for the future, for the twist of the inevitable, for fate to bombard and sway. So he nodded in due course and agreement, the sentiments hidden, tucked away, while he continued to divide and quarter the pieces of ningo. He didn’t expect the next response, and his brows furrowed. Given how often Loren had assisted him in various tasks, and vice versa, the Sword might’ve felt obliged to assist. It was just the notion of Frey that gave him pause, a sensation of discomfort and increased taciturn lacquer sticking to the back of his throat. The warning was enough to wage it was not for him, and he snorted, shaking his head. “Best to ask someone better suited then.” Deflection imparted, he glanced down at the wishbone, redirected by the next inquiry. “Luxere antlers and an ursur claw. Figured I would go into the Tundra and see what I can find.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Letting out a huff of laughter at Deimos' response, Loren nodded. "I'll do that." He set aside the Ningo he'd butchered before grabbing a new and started to clean it. Humming as he did so, he found himself smiling at the simple and familiar motions.

Glancing up as the General explained the remaining tasks, the healer tilted his head to the side. "Astra would probably pout if I went on a luxere hunt, but if you need a hand taking down an Ursur, I'd be happy to assist." His lips twitched upwards. "I've helped kill two already. One with nothing more than a length of cord." Shaking his head at the memory, he snorted.

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Relieved to hear he wouldn’t be further questioned or compelled into anything Frey related, the monolith visibly relaxed, no longer so unyielding, so unbending, and finished dividing the bird. Setting bits and pieces aside, he went for another, repeating instances over again, plucking, de-feathering, and placing them within the sack. He didn’t look up as Loren started his first statement – already well endeavored into not stalking a luxere. He knew too many, especially Auni and Astra, and they’d provided them with safety within the Hollowed Grounds on many a LongNight – it wouldn’t feel right to send another into slaughter simply for the sake of their prominent horns. Better to find one no longer in use. “I figured I would try and find some antlers already shed.” A shrug undulated through his shoulders at the notion, while he picked apart the fowl once more. News about the Ursur gave him the slightest bit of pause. “Noah offered to take me hunting. But I will keep that in mind. Thank you.” But the intrigue about the length of cord wouldn’t cease, and following after the snort, the General conceded to his curiosity. “And how did you accomplish that?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Loren snorted at Deimos' obvious relief when the healer dropped the topic of Frey. However, as promised, he didn't say anything further about them. Instead, he just continued butchering his Ningo. Grinning at the General's plan, the Firebrand nodded. "Smart. Astra will be much relieved." Letting out a huff of laughter, he glanced up at the other man. "A hunter once tried to buy her off me," Loren drawled.

Laughing outright, he shrugged at the question. Flushing a bit, he rubbed the back of his head. "I, uh, I jumped on its back and strangled it to death. Not the best idea but it got the job done."

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Another ningo started, portioned out, cut, and then set aside, an efficient ritual to his measures and motions now, working and settling into a tangible rhythm, unbothered and no longer deterred, or disturbed, by whatever notions Loren had planned. “Are luxere not regarded as highly here?” An inquiry of presumptions perhaps; given their usefulness, abilities, and guiding light during the darkest, deadliest days of the year for the Grounds, he hadn’t considered them not of much use to other worlds. Then again, he’d only ever experienced LongNight in the Hallowed hell, tortured and taunted. An arch to his brow resided once more at the consideration and propensity of Loren’s…strangulation accord with the ursur. “There must have been an easier way.” He snorted, shaking his head – any series of machinations or enchantments might not have made such actions necessary at all. But then again, he wasn’t privy to the situation, and half-intended not to ask anyway, based on the Firebrand’s reaction. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Loren raised his eyebrows at Deimos' question. Frowning, the healer shook his head. "Luxere meat is the most common meat in Halo besides Ningo. You've almost certainly had it at many meals here. It's the most common game the hunters bring back" Shrugging, he brought his knife down to sever the bird's legs. "We don't need their light to drive away monsters, and during LongNight we have fires to brighten the endless dark."

Rolling his eyes, he shifted to cutting off the Ningo's head before pulling out its crop. "It was a training exercise run by Zariah. Use my weakest magic, which happened to be summoning, against an Ursur. Believe me, not my choice." Grimacing, he brought the blade down with more force than necessary.

loren

Coding base by Sky!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The Sword did his best not to wrinkle his nose somewhat in distaste; attempting to cease the sentimentality from bleeding through. That Loren, who had a luxere companion, could shrug off the notions of hunting one down gave him the slightest pause and consideration, muffling a snort in its wake. Perhaps he simply wouldn’t stalk or prey upon them, and that would be that. Most of the time they gave him a wide berth anyway – never caring for the darker edges of his soul, of the incantations eternally lodged and lacquered into his veins, flesh, and bone. “Interesting,” was all he could fathom, pondering assimilation into other cultures, or how many times he’d have to morph, alter, re-shape, and erode. A few more cuts were made, portioning out denizens of the fowl again, before reaching for another. Deimos’ eyes widened only a fraction when the story came full circle: Zariah’s involvement the least surprising moment, and merely because it sounded exactly like something she would do. More for curiosity’s sake, because the demonic intrigue in him never truly ceased or desisted, he tilted his head, pondering the ilk, the mark of the Academy, and the parameters involved with its continued existence. “Did you find her methods effective?” Because his training had never been for the danger, for the intrigue, for the monumental cataclysms – mostly about fortitude, about collaboration, about building and defining one’s abilities in multitude of ways, rather than setting them about in potential torture and treachery. “And does anyone utilize the Academy now?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Love mends even the broken parts

Snorting at Deimos' single word response, Loren continued working on the bird he was currently on. His gaze was trained on the Ningo. Slicing the unwanted bits off and tossing them aside, he added it to the first carcass when he was finished butchering it. "That's one word for it." He let out a huff of laughter.

Pausing before continuing on to another bird, he drummed his fingers on the table. Finally, he nodded. "It was. My magic definitely became more effective afterwards." Shrugging, he spread his arms a bit. "Jace is supposedly in charge now, but we haven't had classes in...over a year now." He grimaced.

Then he narrowed his eyes at the General. "Why do you ask? Looking to add magical training to the martial training you already conduct?" The healer grinned at the other man.

loren

Coding base by Sky!