whole and apart and in-between

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