To long

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Darkeye had never been one to give up his ideals, and as his hands wrapped around the mug, the Sword offered only a sigh. “And how have you failed?” Because at least the priest had tried, far beyond others, to snag at neutrality – even though the binding had been worn off by trickery and deceit, by flickering closer to one side by happenstance. “Are people still alive because of your actions?” For that counted in Deimos’ book – though he was much the same, capable of feeling the least bit guilty for something completely out of his control. He permitted a brief smile at the notions of leadership, considering how long he’d avoided it. Had Evie not been willing to strive alongside, he might not have bothered at all – but such had been the way of it for a year now. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace