redemption burns hot and bright

Gods, that kind of creation is fascinating. Wessex can feel the magic as he uses it, creation and fire and whatever else he might need to craft such things. Resisting the urge to use it (on nothing, just to feel it in her), there is nevertheless a kind of awe written on her face when the Sword turns back to her. Oh, she’s known for a while that Deimos is immensely powerful, but there’s something about creation that gets her. It always will. “That was cool,” she says. Because it was, and why not acknowledge that? Ignoring the crystal for a moment, she reaches out for the crossbow and runs her fingers down the shaft and along the edges. Hopefully this will help. It has to. Her gaze lifts back up to his and she murmurs a sincere “Thank you,” setting it down on the table. “Two more things and then I’ll be out of your hair. Morgan wants to make sure you’re doing well. Should I tell her anything?” A pause, to allow him to say yes or no, or hell, even nothing at all. She’d carry the message faithfully. And then... “I have this crystal from Remi that stores magic. Loren’s missing otherwise I would ask to borrow his feather… which leaves you as the only one I know who’s able to burn down a building. Would it be too much to ask for you to fill it with fire? I’d like to give it to one of the younger Ascended.” Isla, perhaps, as the responsible adult. Or Azrael, as the one she'd like to protect the most. Mabel, as the most daring. Aamu, as the experienced weapon. Any of them. All of them - yes, she wishes she could equip all of them with magic. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm