[Training] I still don't want to be here

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos had spent a majority of the morning repairing portions of the barracks roof. Some contortions had likely peeled away from changing of seasons, normal erosion, wear and tear over time, and some might’ve been attributed to other dominions, hazards, and treacheries. Peeling away shingles and snow, then laying down the other foundations with more formidable proportions from his creation magic, the General intended to take a break before hastening back up again. Coming down the ladder, and meeting Zuriel down at the bottom, he’d only just thrown down a pile of shingles when another bombarded into his side. Being taller, broader, and far more substantial, he barely moved – save for the tilt of his head, the arch of his brow, and the formidable stature as he drew himself to full height, and peered at the individual who’d begun to growl out a series of curses. A rebuttal of sorts threatened to settle on his tongue, but the stranger seemed far more bristled, disgruntled, and out-of-sorts, and so he breathed, a sharp inhale, a low exhale, rather than pursuing down a lane of vehemence. “Are you all right?” Extended instead, because maybe the individual wasn’t, and Zuriel was around to do something. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace