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

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Zuriel slipped out behind him and Sah, escaping her warm hearth, likely because she believed he’d find a way to maim himself again. With her watching from below, Deimos had no fault or issue with claiming a second ladder leaning against the far side of the building, and placing it near the one he’d already established. He listened all the while, curiosity lingering between the slates of motions and notions the fellow Outlander explained – being human. He’d caught a few bits and pieces from before, namely pup and other explanations rendered, pondering how the Voice had procured animals, and brought them forth here to become something else entirely. At the list of basic essentials and needs, the beast snorted. “Water.” The briefest glimpse of a snicker tipped into the edges of his mouth, before he was on the ladder again, climbing up a few rungs, waiting for Sah to follow suit on his own propped up steps. “What were you before?” Past lives, sliding in and out of memories, not in the same accord as resurrection, but another semblance, another twist and turn of powers and abilities. As far as what needed to be accomplished, the Sword’s eyes glanced over the broken shingles, the dilapidated contortions and portions of the structure. “I believe some parts of the roof were damaged over time.” Or actions from the last DeepFrost, but having not been there, he couldn’t be certain, mere speculation in the midsts of silence. “These shingles need to be replaced. We only have to remove this patch.” And he gestured to where he’d already started when Sah had arrived, to proportions already lost and gone. He grabbed hold of one with his glove, and pulled, strength overcoming the weakened adornments, and they slid off in his hand. “Then I can create new ones.” Deimos brushed some snow off, and began to rinse and repeat the process. “I would have done this sooner, but I was ill last season.” Striving to find a cures and maintain some semblance of sanity had been paramount. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace