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

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The Sword picked up the remains of the shingles, intending to dispose of them amongst the rest, collecting and gathering them for now. Moving around Sah, constantly in motion, the beast grabbed hold of the ladders, returning them to their proper places as the fellow Abandoned sought explanations, and Deimos pondered how best to describe the affiliation. “I am not certain. I know I have never had many of these magics before.” It’d always been death and embers, cinders and damnation – no creation, no water, no air, amongst and amidst the other intertwining measures. “Sometimes it just seems to appear.” He had no other explanation, a shrug to his shoulders as he maneuvered around once more, intending to open the door to the barracks again – Zuriel already shuffling back in, reclaiming her position by the hearth. Maybe as Sah gained abilities, he’d recognize the notions. From the doorway, he surveyed the birds, a piercing slate to his eyes. “Not always. I have used my shifts and magic on game before.” Satisfying in its vehemence sometimes, to rip and tear into predacious, raptorial means, to be an armament in every sense and semblance of the word. “But you are in the right place if you want weapons and training with them. I keep the armory stocked.” Though, if he’d never utilized the items before, perhaps it was best to start with wooden arms. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace