whole and apart and in-between

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame His hunting knife carved and sliced its way through, the angle of his brow rising again at the sudden laughter from the Firebrand; uncertain in how he’s inspired it. Rather than mull further into its jurisdiction, he grew silent again, concentration weighted on the preambles of either plucking feathers or slicing proportions, placing them aside for families and people within the wintry halls. To hear Loren’s magic had still taken on some advantage through Zariah’s reign of ridiculousness was mildly disappointing; the Sword wasn’t above a level or measure of spite, vehemence, and pettiness. Based on everything she’d committed within the Hollowed sanctions, he wouldn’t wish her any modicum of success. Based on what they supposedly went through, at least her students had been permitted a level of growth, even if the methods were just as Merciless as the individual who’d thought them through. He tucked the knowledge of Jace in the back of his mind, the nuances of no classes being held another strange indication. Another arch and arc of his brow mustered its way through otherwise stoic features again at Loren’s indications and grin, half a shrug immersed in the movement of his frame. “I instruct in whatever is requested.” Or he had in the Grounds – be it incantations, weaponry, shifts, or something else required, necessary, vital to a person’s being and growth. Deimos doubted the Academy’s sway would’ve stopped him either. “I was curious to know how far her influence still extended.” If at all; silenced, lapsed, and gone. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace