[se] your chest is a wall of fire; you pick torches

DEIMOS

the ocean does not apologize for its depth
and the mountains do not seek forgiveness

He permitted one demonstrative eyeroll at her clear lack of vegetable tastes, before leaving her with the bottle. “Do not drink it all,” as a warning, though it was easily manifested into bemusements, and then he drifted downwards, still steady and stalwart, along the hillside, and back into the training grounds lower proportions, intending to rifle and forage through what remained in the cabinets.

It didn’t take him long to drift his way past targets, hallways, and into parlors, seeking and searching out the remains of some ursur jerky, a few spare fruits laden from the markets of Torchline, and some bread. Meandering back through, he reappeared some moments later with the spread of wares atop the hill, placing them down along the snow with a few plates adorned. Quickly and efficiently he sliced pieces of the baked morsel, waiting for her to take some before he set apart demolishing a portion. “So,” Deimos mentioned, started, in between bites. “What are you planning first?”

for the space they take
and so, neither shall I