to forge

Soleil

Though she hasn’t had human manners instilled into her just yet, Sol’s inherent kindness puts a damper on things like screeching, though her volume modulation still leaves much to be desired. Still, Deimos seems pleased enough, and upon hearing Talyson’s voice without him being present the girl makes a garbled sound caught between a gasp and exclamation that immediately afflicts her with hiccups.

“S-sor- hic - ry!” she amends in a strained, loud whisper, still beaming with delight. Covering her mouth with both hands to try and stifle the hiccuping so she might still be able to listen, the young girl leaves the rest to Deimos.

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

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos shrugged his shoulders, unbothered by the volume on their end – finding it more amusing than anything else; imagining the courier grimacing elsewhere. And from those points and stances, amidst watchtowers and barrack lines, they’d be able to instigate and sort out all measure of possibilities, from high and low vocals, to distance and fortitude. All in all, a plan well sorted and methodical, completed with some worthy assistants. By the end of the hour, they had most of it sorted out, and could venture home from there – a little more secure in the potential for their land during the war. {FIN} master of nothing place; of recoil and grace