HARPER
The two men stand gazing over the wreckage caused by the intrinsic nature of pests, winged or not. What once was beautiful and untouchable has become a roost for the mundane, and that change in status heralds a worthy opponent of cleaning. Surprise alights on Harper’s features at Deimos’ revelation, intrigued by the idea of such (seemingly) menial magic. He is still, even after years of living in Caido, adjusting to magic not being a source of suffering and a sign of a blackened soul. “You can? That’s incredible, how does it work?” There’s a sad lack of connection in this world between science and magic, which leaves the modern man adrift most days, but it does nothing to dim his curiosity.
He is honored to have the man consider his own input at all, given the respect he holds for the former General, and it’s clear in the sunny smile that distracts from straightened shoulders. “I’m sure you have fantastic control, but maybe only for the floors and railings? I feel like Safrin would appreciate a more delicate touch for the shrine itself.” A twist of mischief and humor curls in the corner of Harper’s mouth as he envisions Safrin’s (terrifying) dismay over them doing the magical equivalent of powerwashing her shrine free of bird shit.
He is honored to have the man consider his own input at all, given the respect he holds for the former General, and it’s clear in the sunny smile that distracts from straightened shoulders. “I’m sure you have fantastic control, but maybe only for the floors and railings? I feel like Safrin would appreciate a more delicate touch for the shrine itself.” A twist of mischief and humor curls in the corner of Harper’s mouth as he envisions Safrin’s (terrifying) dismay over them doing the magical equivalent of powerwashing her shrine free of bird shit.
