to forge

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The early afternoon haze snagged along the spires of the watchtower, enough to catch glints and rays of light. He’d yet to wander up the steps since they’d created its proportions – too busy staking out patrols along the Citadel walls, and casting others to remain in the responsibilities of gazing out across the expanse. But he’d take over the role for the next several hours, while conjuring another level of defense for the mountainous region. Taking plans and sketches made days ago, he rolled them in his gloved hands, and took to the stairs, rising along, gazing out the windows as he did so. It was an awe-inspiring view once he reached the top, barely winded, much like the images he snagged in flight, and he nodded towards the soldier on the current vigil, granting them the ability to leave as he worked. Snagging at the chair and table nearby, he contemplated and studied the diagrams already laid out. More magic utilized meant more abilities, more potential, and so Deimos removed the gloves, and began constructing, palms gilded and glowing. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

The thump and skitter of talons on wood presaged the dragon's appearance at the top of the tower, and once at the top she didn't hesitate before padding towards Deimos and plopping her rump down on the rug that softened the sanded boards they had laid all those weeks ago. She sat very still and very good, watching his hands move as she did her best impression of a very good dragon who would be deserving of treats in short order.

Her companion was a few seconds behind, scampering up on lighter feet with an amused snort as he crested the top stair and grinned first at the dragon and then at the man she was trying to impress. "You just had a treat," he scolded her lightly as he came into the room and waved at Deimos before realizing the General was hard at work at something. Going quiet, Tal unslung his Bag and started pulling out ration bars to stuff in the watchtower cupboards before he tip-tied over to see what his friend was up to now, peering curiously down at the table but holding his breath so he wouldn't distract the Abandoned from his creation.

Soleil

What is Soleil doing in the Citadel today? Nothing you need to know, and certainly nothing to do with the jam smeared on the corners of her mouth. She is intending to leave to find Luka or anyone else in her little pack, before she sees Deimos ascending the stairs with papers in his hands. Soleil brightens and scampers over to him, only to pout a little when someone else joins him, someone she doesn’t know. Still, Sol is a friendly creature, and she hasn’t seen Deimos in some time so she will not let the stranger’s appearance daunt her.

The other man hovers silently, but Soleil does not. Appearing at Deimos’ side where he sits, little hands tap on his thigh insistently to obtain his attention, and one rises to shield the side of her mouth like she’s sharing a secret. “What are you making Mister Deimos?” she whispers overly-loudly, tall enough at eight to see over the lip of the table but not much more. “And can I help?” Excitement bubbles up immediately at the idea, brightening with eager hope.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Company seemed to expand within an instant, conjured on talons and feet, a prediction and calculation the General wouldn’t have been able to surmise prior. He snorted at the familiarity of Boreal and the clear hankering for treats, even if Talyson’s warning came shortly thereafter, he ceased movements of enchantments with enough time to slip fingers into pockets and pull out a secret treat to the lizard. Recognizing Soleil by her appearance (from skating rinks and something distinctly Sah-like about her nature and presence), he snorted, trying not to immediately question why she was wandering about the Citadel, alone. Simplifying the answer, for her and others’ benefit, he permitted a stage-whisper to follow suit, hand gliding to ruffle at his papers and show her the outline. “A pair of talking devices. So you can speak into it, and someone far away can hear and answer.” He arched a brow at the courier nearby, but didn’t say anything else to the nature of the subject – presuming the Accepted would be able to parse through the hows and whys. Turning back to Sol, he tilted his head, distinctly patient. “Do you know how to draw a snowflake?” Producing a piece of charcoal and paper from another pocket, it’d allow for some distraction while he worked. Beginning again, the golden glow of his palms burst forth and created the foundations of those very devices, in an contour reminiscent of those elements they saw each and every day, conspiring, contorting, in arrays of creative magic. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Boreal licked the treat up in a dainty tongue and butted her broad head against Deimos's thigh affectionately. The forbidden tidbit disappeared down her gullet just before Tal crested the top stair, but he still sensed something - a bit of smugness, perhaps - through their bond. The look he gave her when he saw her at the General's side was exasperated, but she radiated an aura of draconic innocence that finally had him snorting in amusement and forgoing any scolding as he went to work.

The child that came up after him was unexpected and, indeed, baffling in appearance here, in a military Watchtower, with no parent in sight. Tal glanced down at her in bemusement and discomfort but he had to admit he appreciated the explanation the General gave to her question. He gave his friend a slow nod of acknowledgment when Deimos looked his way, understanding immediately the significance of the devices

Since his friend seemed willing to let the kid stay it wasn't Tal's place to shoo her out. He reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, torn for a minute by wanting to watch the magic happen, but in the end he was still a professional and instead of interrupting the work again he headed back to the shelves to finish the restocking with the foodstuffs and supplies he'd brought in his Bag.

Soleil

Why is she alone? Very good question! Luckily nobody asks it, because Sol’s answer would be somewhere along the lines of ‘I do it all the time’. Sometimes Lilly chaperones her, sometimes she’s hand-in-hand with Luka, sometimes she’s with her father; admittedly most times are like today, sniffing around places that shouldn’t be familiar but definitely are. Mostly bouncing between “safe people” - and fortunately or unfortunately for the man himself, Deimos fits the bill.

She brightens like her namesake as he plays into her stage whisper, the simplified explanation making her eyes go wide. Magic is not unfamiliar to her, but what it can do has always been elemental things in her experience. Before she can ask what will surely be far too many questions, Deimos distracts her with charcoal and paper, and her dark curls bounce wildly as she nods emphatically. “Of course!” she chirps, and plops right there on the floor by Deimos’ side to start scribbling away, tongue peeking out of her lips in concentration. Shell phones and strange hovering young men entirely forgotten.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame As Talyson became silent and Soleil remained occupied, his concentration unfurled to the incantations once more. Dual snowflakes came to be – ivory varnished in the slightest hint of blue – hardly larger than his hand – but the enchantments residing inside were the true highlight. Much like the shell phone predecessors before it, he harnessed and finessed enchantments deep into the structures, permitting ample opportunities for future talking endeavors across vast regions – or merely here, within Halo. When he was done, the Sword surveyed them, and then nodded, figuring they’d be efficient and up to the task. Glancing at the other occupants, he addressed the courier first. “Would you mind taking this one to the barracks?” He rose from the table, intending to hand one of the pair off to Talyson, before stage-whispering again for everyone’s benefit. “I would like to test them,” with a vague, if slightly impish smile curling along his mouth. -- Deimos has created: Snowflake Phone: These dual snowflake designed “phones” can ensure two-way communication that can work across half the continent, or well within a region. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

The shelves were filled in slowly since Tal kept stealing peeks back at the magic swirling in Deimos's hands. Once the snowphones had taken shape from thin air he hurried to finish his task, tucking the last of the cans and bags of rations into place. Rushed though he was, he still took the time to make sure each item was sorted and stacked neatly in its place with all the care he had learned to take for packing his sleds for long journeys.

Deimos's voice drew him back to the table and he nodded solemnly, careful to keep up his professional face in front of the kid. He took one of the communication objects and turned it over in his hands, looking it over thoughtfully before pale eyes rose to meet Deimos's with a wrinkle of his nose. "Uh... how do I activate it when I get there?" He wasn't entirely sure how the magic worked, having never seen the original shell phones. "Is there a magic word or spot I push or... or something'?" Boreal tilted her head at the General at the same time that Tal did, the pair in curious sync.

Soleil

By the time Deimos is done constructing whatever it is he is making, Soleil has managed to fill an entire page with snowflakes. They’re rather good for her age, and with minimal stains on her hands to show for it. When she goes to hold it up for Deimos to see, already halfway to smiling, she gasps and jumps to her feet when she spies the phones in his hands.

“They’re snowflakes too!” she gushes, nearly forgetting her drawing. She listens intently to his instructions, though it’s clear she won’t be the one carrying them out. That’s where the hovering-man comes in it seems. Soleil moves aside politely, beaming at the young man before turning back to Deimos. “Can I help test them?” Even just talking into the snow-phone would be delightful for her.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Careful and methodical, but juvenile and boyish all the same, he was half-tempted to say you will know and let the enigmas remain embedded there. It’d taken a burning down of a bar, blatant panic, and drunken caterwauling from Loren for Deimos to figure it out, but they’d mustered it along in the end. “Put it close to your ear when you hear voices coming from it.” His gaze went towards the window, mind calculating how long it might take the courier to amble his way towards the barracks. “We will give you a few minutes.” Then, with the encouragement of Soleil, he snorted, granting a nod. “Of course,” incapable of tucking the mischief and notions entirely away. They could give Talyson some spare moments to go down the winding stairs and towards the training area, before implementing, and he lowered his portion of the phone-pair, so that she might start speaking into it. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Just holding it up? That seemed simple enough and Tal nodded with a little relief that there wasn't a more complicated mechanism to it. Otherwise he would have probably tried to shake it, twist it, spin it, pull on various protrusions, and eventually bop it in his attempts to get it working. "I'll be there before you know it!" he promised with a grin. He gave the child a cautious nod for her smile, attempting an awkward tilt of his lips in return before making his escape. Tucking the snowflake carefully into his Bag for safe travels, he moved towards the door with a brisk, confident stride, missing her request to assist in the experiment.

Of course, he jumped down half the stairs and hit the ground running as soon as he was outside, sprinting for the barracks. Boreal was initially at his heels within the tower but then took to the air to warble encouraging rumbles at her companion as arms pumped and legs churned and he dodged through his fellow pedestrians and merchant sleds with hollered apologies for those he startled.

He might have set a new record as he skidded to a halt outside the fortified door, and as soon as he was inside he pulled out the communicator-flake and held it up to his ear eagerly--

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Soleil

It’s torture to wait for the young man to make it to his destination, but Soleil is nothing if not polite, and patience is a virtue that must be trained like any other skill. So she tries her best not to restlessly wander or wriggle at Deimos’ hip as they stare at the snowflake shaped device, awaiting -

And then Tal’s voice is there, clear as if he were standing in the room with them, and Soleil startles. She recovers gracefully a moment later and eagerly leans in (too close, but she doesn’t know that) to respond with effusive joy. “Hello mister, and miss dragon! We can hear you!” It’s only polite to give them titles when she doesn’t know their names, but her voice is unintentionally a little too loud as it rings down the line, bright with excitement.

let us live like flowers, darling
wild and beautiful and drenched in sun

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Talyson hastened off and there was only the marginal wait before the crackle of his voice across the phone. Another snort threatened to rally along his throat, but he kept it in check, eyes flickering down to watch Sah’s offspring lean in far too close, and hid another snicker. He’d been half-hoping she might screech into it and startle the courier along the other end, but this was fine too. The excitement and cheer were probably enough to disconcert Talyson anyway. For his efforts, Deimos permitted his voice to carry along and downwards, with no need to project, given his constant rumbles and deep tones. “Are we coming through clear?” The Sword had no intentions of crafting an object that would only instigate and ensure a garbling, crackling, static-laden mess on the other end. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

Tal jerked the snowphone away from his ear with a look of dismay. That wasn't Deimos! Boreal gave a basso chortle from her perch on the roof above the barracks door, clearly enjoying her companion's discomfort as the courier wrinkled his nose at the phone and then - tentatively - brought it back near his face.

But not too near this time.

"Uh. H...hi, kid. And yeah, General, you're comin' through loud an', uh, clear. Maybe a little too loud?" Well, Deimos wasn't coming across too loud, at least, so Tal was pretty sure the items didn't really need adjusting. Just some getting used to. He pulled it further away experimentally, still talking, until he held it out at arm's length while he walked towards Deimos's office. "Hey, these are pretty handy! Can they do anythin' else?"