[Training] [se] these years of infinity

Deimos The refusal of healing wasn’t a surprise, though he did tilt his head a fraction, notes of curiosity. He might’ve been the same way once – proud and indulgent in the weight of pain and anguish. But this world had taught him to take the opportunities when they were given, for sometimes they were not offered, or available, again. Not in the heat of moments scattered like shards of vehemence, not in the tones of violence, not when poison snagged at lungs, rocks fell, or everything else shattered. But for this, only a training spar, he’d acknowledge the notion with a nod. He didn’t require it either, not when there’d only been a few hits and bruises were already dulling. Instead then, waving off Zuriel and allowing her to continue grazing, he began to pick up the pierced remains of the target. Pieces could be collected and re-used, or furnished for an upcoming fire, and he considered them in his quiet, contemplative state, rolling a few muscles through his shoulders. Only when Darkeye finished speaking did he realize there was another semblance of questioning lodged in there, and he turned his attentions back to the older man. “What else did you want to discuss?” Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime