[se] different tomorrows
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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MP: 9824
#43
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“True,” for all of Isilme’s faults, the monsters had always been the humans, rather than the other ones lurking in between tides or curls of fog.

The loss of his dough was not a heartfelt defeat, punctuated by a snort and then snagging at more, though in smaller portions, intending to savor the cookies too. Her words pressed in between, and his shoulders shifted in a moment of restlessness, before leaning back against the counter again. “You are safe here,” and he nodded, as if to cement the fact and notion – here being within the confines of Halo, or amid his own monolithic presence. Simple and forthright, sincere all the same.

The word being an echo earned a sharp arch to his brow immediately thereafter – wondering if she meant the kitchen in a literal sense, or the world cultivated at the edge of mountains – a culture and haven all its own, bridged away from so many other forms and follies. He presumed the latter rather than the former, invoking a rumble behind his teeth that held no particular meaning, save for amusement.

To hear of her adventures in King’s End, alone, instigated the barest narrowing of his gaze, maybe to picture the shallow, swooping end of the fertile lands, where the river bent and bordered, before dissipating into the desert. A comment or two lingered along his tongue, uncertain if they were going to invoke some sadness and desolation, he opted to smile at the notions instead, trying to reel back into where his favorites were. “The Sea of Glass – it reminds me of a lake we once had – it never froze. And you can run for miles,” a sense of freedom and liberation when everything else felt like it was unraveling. “Frey’s Breath is a nice, natural hot spring, though I have never stayed in it for long.” Too busy gathering or rallying or hunting or trying to survive. “There is a part of the Whispershore where you can dive for a ways, and still only encounter gold fish.” Peaceful, tranquil, rarities in a life like his. “All right, least favorite place.”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#44
EVIE
Not wanting to make too grand a gesture of it, but incapable of not being sincere, Evie lifts her gaze enough to meet his instead of hiding her small, pleased smile. “I know. So are you.” Safe to share these little things, memories of his birth land and various preferences. Information she would never part with without his consent.

It’s a relief that he doesn’t seem to pin the nature of her answer, and she doesn’t seek to correct him. Evie can’t help but fret over the weight of her emotions, always hesitant to share them lest they become a burden on whoever is receiving them. It’s why she has always been some chaotic mix of bullheaded and kind, but has never built very many close relationships. Even though Deimos is the only one who remains with that distinction, scaring him off somehow still seems too real a possibility. Her parents and their insistence on presenting a certain way had caused damage she isn’t sure how to navigate. But here in this small, homely kitchen with what is surely her only - and best - friend, even those old habits and traumas can’t touch her. She is safe here. Because he is too.

Her eyes widen with each revelation, heels bouncing faster with unrestrained eagerness. “I’ve never been in a hot spring, it sounds amazing,” she breathes, completely forgetting the small remnants of dough in favor of searching the Sword’s face. “We should go! It’s still cool enough to be enjoyable. Or maybe the Whispershore, though I’m not the strongest swimmer.” The Oasis was the only reliable vestige of water in the Grounds, which didn’t provide experience with currents or deeper pools. “My least favorite is the Spire,” she admits softly with a pinch to her mouth. Not wanting to ruin the mood entirely with talk of The Voice and all they’d suffered because of her, she casts around for another answer. “And most of The Climb. The earth there feels wrong. Even in Hak Etme there’s plants, but the magma blots everything out. It’s awful - and hot. Nose wrinkles petulantly at that, huffing a laugh. “But don’t get me wrong, I still want to try the hot spring!” Hoping her slight slip up wouldn’t prompt him to consider his least favorite in the light of what had emotionally harmed him most, she poses the question back; “What’s your least favorite?”

Realizing they’d spent enough time talking that the cookies had cooled without their noticing, Evie leans over to pluck a ningo from the tray and splits it in half, holding one piece out to Deimos with a grin. Not that it distracts her from this new game they have going, already concocting another question. “Also - when you’re not training or killing creatures of legend, what do you do for fun?”
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#45
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
For a soul who’d made his life all about protecting and serving others, he’d never thought about having his own safe threshold. Not in people. Not in places. Too used to abandonment or loss, so much so that it seemed to still cultivate the root of his insecurities, and he extended those safeguarding measures again and again and again until sometimes it was all he stood for. He made lands shielded and sheltered, and rarely was it the other way around. So his eyes widened at the response, before a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, amongst the flour. “Thank you,” with all the sincerity he could muster.

The eagerness in return earned a softer smile. “I imagine the springs are shallow enough,” and he wouldn’t let her drown anyway. The least favorites presented other layers and lacquer he could’ve expected, especially in regards to the Spire, which rarely seemed to inspire any love or devotion, except for maybe in some Ascended. It stood as a collective symbol of barriers and beliefs, but he wisely made no mention of it – including his own near death experiences in its once poisonous void. “Not all of the Climb is too bad. We found a cave full of jewels before.” However, Deimos understood what she meant – though his blood contained fire and ichor and infernal wakes; and so he found himself not minding most of the magma-laden land. “But it is a strange place just the same.”

He could’ve agreed with the monolithic tower, or his old home where hearts were split and torn, but with a wrinkle to his nose, he set his spoon down within the bowl, satisfied with the amount of dough eaten. “Hak Etme. I do not care for the desert. Or that many landsharks.” Even with her preference for riding them.

His eyes lifted, following her movements, as she snagged at the cookies. With enough room left in his stomach to taste test these, he smiled, snagging at the offered piece. The following question made him laugh, mostly because Talyson had asked him the same recently. “Terrorizing friends, running, swimming, flying. Games.” Usually associated with some mischief. Taking a bite of the ningo, giving off a contented sigh, he asked her the same. “What about you?”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#46
EVIE
Admittedly Evie has always assumed he has had someone to be his shelter, his escape. Blame it on the carry over of when Amalia used to be that person, or assuming that surely other people must care for him the way she does, but the color in his cheeks and the well of sincerity in his simple gratitude is all the evidence she needs to realize how wrong she was. Heart squeezing painfully with a wave of empathy, she keeps her eyes unwavering on his own, wishing their hands weren’t full so she might touch his. But for now, the open expression she dons has to be enough. “Of course, Deimos. Always.” No matter the circumstances, he would always have shelter with her. It only seemed fair with the title the people had given her. Her boughs would always have enough room for him to rest beneath.

Suspecting that would be the extent of emotion he could stomach for that moment, Evie lets their conversation sweep them away to easier waters. Though she can’t control the slightly playful doubt that creeps onto her face, the prospect of better locations is enticing enough to keep her interest piqued. “We’ll have to make a day or two of it then, and you can try and prove to me it has its own beauty,” she declares, and maneuvers her free hand between them to shake on it. “Like a mini vacation. Sound good?” And maybe, if it was an enjoyable time, perhaps he’d be open to letting her do the same. To finally talk about her isolation by showing him where she’d lived, all the beautiful places she’d found and had never been able to share.

Distaste is prominent even with his carefully chosen words, and Evie can’t help but laugh at the charming display of rarely seen disgust. “I admit I don’t like the desert much either. But have you been to the oasis there, or the caravans? They’re the only salvageable areas, but I think you’d like them.” And Evie is suddenly, direly curious to see Deimos in swim trunks and flipflops. So at odds with his normal attire and surroundings that even the image makes her bite her tongue hard to not dissolve into hysterics that would make no sense from the outside.

Luckily his answer provides reason enough to grin, slightly devilish. “I can’t fault you for that when your available targets seem so fun.” She’d met Talyson and Sah all of once and already had been roped into terrorizing them - quite gladly, and she would happily do it again. Nibbling her cookie, she hums contemplatively. Gardening and crossbreeding plants were enjoyable, but unsurprising, and too deeply tied into her job. She’d already told him of the cider too. “Sam would keel over if he’d ever had a chance to find out,” she begins slowly, and is relieved when her smile saddens but doesn’t waver, “but I really enjoy reading romance novels. I used to sneak them from his shop.” Aside from youthful entanglements with Rory, Evie had never experienced love like that, and though she’d hidden it like so many other facets of herself the joy of disappearing into someone else’s life would never fade. “And painting, though I don’t think I’m that great at it.” Preferring abstract and nature over portraits or sketchbooks. Utilizing hands and uncommon materials, an outlet for feeling more than refined skill. “Do you do anything artsy?” She wouldn’t be surprised if so, he was unfairly well-rounded in his talents and skills alike.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Online
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Posts: 6,555 | Total: 10,648
MP: 9824
#47
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He'd heard that word before (always), and it hadn’t lasted. Dissipated, in the wake of demise and loss and alterations he still didn’t think he understood – so he swallowed down something instantly coating his throat. Jaw clenched, feathering through flesh, until his eyes turned downward. Trust was a hard-earned concept for someone who’d known the potent weight of loss, and how people chose to leave him behind. So he took another breath and stopped the tightening in his chest, nodding, choosing to place hope and faith in another for the moment – because maybe that was better than eternally expecting the worst. He didn’t have any words for her, save that same coloring of his cheeks, granting a nod, solidifying the notions with a glance back her way, and easier thoughts.

Like…why so many tried to make him go on vacations.

“Not sure I can abandon the place for an entire day,” stare going out the window, to the surrounding world of ice and rime, thinking over the antics of some of his constituents. Glancing back towards her, he resigned a slight sigh, extending his larger hand with all its callouses and scars in a shake. “Half. Maybe.”

His gaze narrowed though, vaguely suspicious, as she named other places amongst the desert. He hadn’t been to any caravans or oasis – just the sulfur, the boneyard, and the endless god damned wasteland. “I must have missed those,” with another earnest wrinkle to his nose.

Unaware of her thought process and imagery of him in swim trunks (easily done) or flip flops (would not be caught dead in them), he hastened a brief snort at the available targets. The following revelation was enough to send him into another Cheshire grin though, biting down on his cookie, picturing Evie with all her tucked away romance novels. “Hid them under your bed and everything?” A wink of indulgence and another low rumble of laughter, content, distracted, diverted. "I used to steal my mother's pies out the window while they cooled," if they were sharing mischievous, childish acts. “What did you paint?”

Deimos never thought himself as artsy – despite how many times someone had asked if he’d branched into those skills. “Only things I have created. Or the sketches in the guild journals.”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#48
EVIE
Even with words locked somewhere down in his chest, locked away with the emotions that are buried there where she can’t get her hands to heal and help, she can sense he doesn’t believe her. Not in the sense that always is a promise that can’t be made in Caido because of her cruelty, but something more. Something personal. But he nods all the same, and that’s all Evie can ask for; that he give her a chance to prove it, day but day, moment by moment. And her smile is small but conveys clearly how touched she is that he doesn’t brush the sentiment away entirely.

It blossoms into something cheekier as the conversation sways sideways, laughing through grinning teeth. The scars of his hand juxtapose the years of callouses and pinprick marks in her own, and she squeezes firmly on the shake as she seals the plan they’ve created on the fly. “I’ll take what I can get, I don’t doubt half of Halo would crumble if you were gone too long.” Despite the teasing lilt, she truly believes it - and it’s why she wants to free that weight from his shoulders, even if he’ll only allow it for a measly half a day.

It’s why she doesn’t offer to take him back to the desert to show him the caravans. Something might break if she offers too many (half-day) vacations. It goes into her mental notes regardless, intending to bring it up again in the future. Even if she’d wanted to press the topic, his impish grin and boyish wheedling needle a surge of amused embarrassment through her that distracts her from everything else. Cheeks two spots of brightening color as she averts her eyes, even as she laughs good-naturedly, only having brought up the secret because she was secure enough in it to be teased. “Under a loose floorboard actually, I didn’t want to crinkle the pages and make him suspicious,” she admits, muffling her huff of laughter into the warmth of her cookie. Once she swallows she aims a playful look his way, glad for the elevation the counter provides her. “Was that the origin of your sweet tooth then?” Evie can’t help but wonder what he’d looked like as a child, mischievous and sneaking around to filch a dessert before due time. Unaware of what the future held for him.

“Abstract things mostly. Never a subject in mind. Like you, I’ve had to sketch a lot of plants, so I mostly just enjoyed playing with the colors and shapes.” Biting her lip she shrugs self-consciously, tiny smile feeble on the corner of her lips. “But it felt like a waste of the pigments, so I didn’t do it often. Haven’t picked it back up since the barrier fell.” She could, she realizes now, but she wouldn’t even know where to start with collecting the materials again.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#49
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Little by little he’d given his trust over to others; but only so far, and with good reason. The damage long since done, scar tissue flickering over a plethora of ivory lines over muscle, flesh, bone, and soul, could only unfurl bit by bit at a time. A predacious wariness, the calculations of a predator locked and wounded, scaling corners and shadows until it felt safe to wander back out into light.

Like here and now, no darkness battering.

He rumbled a groan through his chest at her notions, beyond nose wrinkling and now ensuing pretenses of trepidation, leaning back against the counter as if the dread were already sinking in through his bones. “Do not say that. They will find a way.” The General had no doubts that several coming to mind would blow up some portion of the marketplace or lure a dragon in.

Piercing gaze caught the teasing hues in her cheeks and laughed again, biting down on the remains of the cookies with an audible crunch, amused by the antics of hiding things from Sam. “Of course not.” As for the origins of his hankerings for sweets, he snorted, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe. She caught on quickly though.” A hint that those angles of shenanigans had ceased and desisted; Stone had always been sharp and astute. Didn’t mean he hadn’t tried other things, however.

His head tilted while she described her painting, listening all the while; a play with colors, shapes, designs, images in mind but the distortion and tools capable of being altered. His brow furrowed slightly when it was considered a waste, wondering how and why, but then not thereafter – the Hollowed Grounds would’ve been hard pressed for such materials. Before Bastien anyway, and for as dramatic as the man had been, he’d done multitudes of good for not only Rexanna, but offering hues and vibrancy. On a whim, an offer clung to Deimos’ mouth and slid over his tongue without thinking, and then stifled, uncertain. “Probably could be easily made.”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#50
EVIE
Evie has to bite her lip to try and muffle the giggles at his deep-chested, horrified groan. They’re admittedly audible regardless, but she does try. “Maybe it’s a Halo thing, they can’t help it,” she teases with a vixen smirk, cheerily leveraging her Grounder birthland in genial rivalry with the land she now lives in, “and the only reason you’re immune is because you’re an Outlander.” And why he was the bastion of the land, protecting and corralling at the same time.

Brushing crumbs from her lap into her palm to avoid having to gaze upon his teasing expression, acting like it was an action of great importance, her shoulders shake with laughter as she deposits them into one of the dirty bowls. “Don’t push your luck or you’ll find one on your dining room table,” her nose wrinkles in a lifetime-long habit of girlish teasing, always betraying when she is full to the brim with lightheartedness. “Good thing we’re old enough to make our own pies now, hm?” Evie taps her fingertips on the pan of cookies with a smile. “Even if we picked the wrong type today.” Though pie was far harder to share at a festival.

Deimos’ silence makes her tilt her head after a few moments too long, brow just beginning to crinkle in concern before he speaks. Her eyes widen and her cheeks go freshly pink, empty hands waving the gesture away in anxious little flutters. “Oh, no Deimos I couldn’t. Your magic it’s…it’s beautiful and can do so much, don’t waste it on something silly like that.” Like Evie and her old interests. It’s a grand gesture to even offer, but she can only think of what those pigments and brushes would take the place of; armaments, emergency supplies, who knows what else? Her desires seem so insignificant in comparison. “Maybe once I’ve built up my practice more I can afford to trade for some supplies.” Intended to comfort or reassure him, even if she’d likely forget - focused too much on the aiding of others, the hours of work that could fill her day instead. In this, they were far too alike.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#51
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“Or maybe a Caido thing,” shrugging his shoulders again, recalling the number of occasions where a majority of them were in some means of trouble. Conveniently leaving out and forgoing his own instances of trial and tribulation; nowadays his strength was a paramount, and could readily admit it. “Years ago you would have blamed us Outlanders,” but he winked just the same; no hard feelings about the discourse between Naturals and those dragged and brought here against their will – striving to find their place.

At the threat, he snorted, rolling his eyes but taking the notion for what it was worth. “I would set it on fire,” as a warning to not waste the paper, with a smug little grin thereafter. He could always toss the tome into the hearth too. As for pies, he could only heave another grandiose sigh. “I suppose. Maybe the cookies will last longer.” (They wouldn’t).

Brows furrowed slightly at the next response, mostly because he’d never received it before. Rolling the consideration around in his head, he leaned back against the counter again, compelling another round of the desserts their way via Air magic as he thought, a restless notion. If there’d been a weapon in his hands it’d be tossed from side to side, sliding along palm to palm. A deeper rumble followed suit, as fingers toyed, twisted, and turned the makeshift banshee in his grasp. “It is not wasteful or silly. You should see the targets I make.” For nothing but spite and pettiness and bludgeoning an adversary’s nose; at least paints had the ability to render something in beauty and art. The Sword had always been a purposeful crafter; Evie’s contentment existed in there somewhere. But if she didn’t want it, he wouldn’t push the issue. “If you are sure,” The offer would still stand in silence anyway, as he arched a brow back in her direction.
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#52
EVIE
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is her lofty, nasally response, affecting an arrogant facade of ignorance that crumbles into a bright smile moments later. While most of the Naturals had been wary - and weary - of the Outlanders and their increasing numbers, Evie had outgrown that mindset swiftly enough upon realizing how comfortable and accepting they all were of magic. Her life had changed for the better with the wave of change they’d brought with them. Deimos in particular. He had changed the course of her life more than he would ever know.

Blue eyes spark at the challenge inlaid into his warning, mischief rising like a wave in her expression. “The bookstore will be ecstatic when I visit daily to buy replacements then.” It’s a relatively empty threat - Evie is far too solidly a Grounder for such wastefulness, but maybe just once…

She watches as he easily uses another magical talent of his to busy his hands, nearly distracting her with a moment of admiration that has her slow to recognize his words. Pausing and deliberating for a few long moments even after he gives her an out, her teeth play anxiously with her bottom lip as she watches his hands instead of his face. It feels selfish, and while she’d been selfish as a cruel youth it had never been in a material sense even then. The trait itself had long been outgrown. But she doesn’t want to distrust or discredit when he reassures, so eventually she lifts her gaze to his and tries for an uncertain smile. “If you’re sure. Could I maybe watch you make them though?” It’s an uncharacteristic uncertainty, but with magic she can never seem to fully shake it.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#53
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Something about hearing his own words lodged against him caused a snort to billow through lungs and chest, effectively ending the notions there. Their lives had been so precariously altered from those earlier points anyway – broadened and branched out as soon as the barrier fell – that Natural hardly seemed to signify from land to land. He allowed her his silence, and subtle eyeroll, before biting down on the concoction – pitying the notions of a book shop hastening for replacements for imagined antics.

The Sword expected the other semblances of creation to end there – but either he was convincing, reassuring, enough that it wasn’t a bother (because that was the truth) or the longing had been embedded, lodged, somewhere in there from times long past. Twisting back so that he faced the counter rather than leaning on it, eye to eye with her for a moment, he nodded, certain and sure, steady and stalwart as always. “Yes.” Not asking for an explanation, for the measures of why she’d want to see them manifested from nothing, he merely let it sink and simmer. Another breath, cookie polished and finished off, he dusted his palms free of sugary debris, piercing gaze flicking back to hers. “What colors would you like?”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#54
EVIE
Objective achieved with the snort of amusement she had managed to instigate, Evie grins and plucks another cookie from the tray to match the one Deimos had floated over to himself. They had to keep pace with each other after all. It also gives her something to focus on aside from the nerves of asking for something for herself, something magically created and obtained from a friend who already does so much - and who had recently done even more in helping to settle her in Halo.

But as he turns to face her fully, his guileless stare is arresting, and she finds she can’t say no. Whether it’s curiosity over his manifestations, greed, or some private desire to paint again, she can’t say. All she knows is the power of his certainty. His question bears some rumination, which she spends eating the remainder of her cookie and brushing the new crumbs off her lap again to deposit back into the bowl. By then she has her answer. “The primary colors, of course, but if you could do orange, white, and black as well?” It’s still tentative, still the lilt of question at the end, unsure of boundaries and territories that foray too deeply into greed. Orange was not difficult to make, but a vibrant orange was hard, and it being her favorite color only cinched the interest. Brushes were more easily obtained in Halo, which meant the canvases and paints themselves would be the hardest to obtain. For now she would have to practice on vellum and parchment. But she scoots along the counter to get closer to him, wondering if he’d simply…pop them into existence there and then, and as such unwilling to miss the moment.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#55
Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He waited in the quiet, could almost hear her processing the semblances one by one. A small smile settled along his mouth, and when the colors became a certainty, he nodded. “All right, give me a moment.”

And from there, the space between his palms began to glow – manifestations of thoughts and hues and blends blurring together from experiences, conjuring, creating, in neat, adorned pools. Bold designations followed suit, compelled and coiled and controlled by his power and might. Yellow, like the morning rays bleeding over the horizon, red, like the crimson pools amongst the falls within the Greatwood, blue, like ocean waves and tidal currents. Orange might’ve been trickier given the pigment, but concentration didn’t wane, especially for one she considered favored, sunsets sparking and sizzling over otherwise stark plains.

Thereafter came ivory, tundra outlines and mountains crisp and cold, and black, hollowed out and empty. Each with their own container, small but sufficient, and as they settled upon the counter one by one, he nudged them over to the healer for inspection. When they seemed finished, he unfurled a long and slow breath, methodically glancing over them one last time, before his gaze went to hers again – looking for something. Approval, probably, before he started on canvases. “Will these do?”
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 8 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 30 - Int:
MICAH - Regular - Tide Jaguar
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 6,168
MP: 9427
#56
EVIE
She would give him as many moments as he desired for the pleasure of watching him create, and once he begins she scarcely dares to blink. Hands gripping her knees to withhold the desire to reach out and feel the space between his hands where his magic goes to work. Already she can sense its usage, but she longs to know what it feels like on her own skin. Is it the same way her telekinesis feels? Or is it how her healing magic feels? Each of her own feel so different, and aside from the elements being used against her Evie has never felt the power of anything else.

Each little pan of paint is taken with the utmost care, examined with awe instead of the sharp eye he might have intended her to utilize. Fade open and bright like the sun, full of wonder at a level that must seem childlike. He asks the question so plainly, as if he hadn’t just handed her a gift beyond anything she’d received before. The smile that slowly blooms on her face is radiant, and she gently holds the paints all together in both her cupped hands, fingertips curling over their edges to hold them close. “They’re beautiful, she whispers, unable to manage much louder with the way the emotion in her chest balloons too big for anything more. “Your magic - you - you’re incredible. Thank you.” And she wants to say it over and over and over, but at the same time she’s equally speechless. Evie finds that - sitting on Deimos’ counter, covered in flour and egg, cookie crumbs in her lap and newly created paints held precious in her palms - she’s the happiest she’s ever been.
Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be


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