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.