The courier perked up at hearing that Deimos had been equally successful, meaning that they had enough for Halo - and one leftover for his own quest as well. In another time he would have grinned proudly up at the older man, but the Warden's hard eyes forestalled any further outbursts of exuberance and Tal wilted a little further under the comparison between his own simple clay 'fishbowls' and the large, fancy terrariums the Abandoned had crafted or obtained.
He'd been proud of his own ceramic containers before he saw what the Sword had devised. Though no potter himself, he'd commissioned the pieces from the Halovian artisan who made his fire pots, working with the craftsman to devise something both large enough and sturdy enough to contain creatures of living lava - at least for a little while - and keep them warm. Sturdy enough, too, to hold the heat and survive travel back from the Climb since he didn't dare put them back into his Bag without knowing if they could breathe in there.
"I... I dunno," he admitted, mumbling as he looked down morosely at his own lava wyrms. The lids were of a thick, heat-resistant glass and the one on top was glaring up at him through it, clearly displeased at being contained for any reason. The pots held nothing beyond the animals, however, and were functionally simple cat carriers rather than long-term living facilities. "D'you know what they like to eat? I figured we'd need t'make 'em a bigger enclosure when we got home, probably..." The wyrms should probably have been the last things they obtained so they could have gone straight to the Shrine with them, but surely they could keep the little spitfires alive for a few days while the springs were finished up? At least he could take one of them to Frey as soon as they got home, so they'd only need to house three.
Boreal, meanwhile, after contemplating the lava wyrm that was sticking its tongue out at her had decided it had the right idea, and extended her head to lick the outside of its container with a fire-breather's fine disregard for heat on her tongue.
He'd been proud of his own ceramic containers before he saw what the Sword had devised. Though no potter himself, he'd commissioned the pieces from the Halovian artisan who made his fire pots, working with the craftsman to devise something both large enough and sturdy enough to contain creatures of living lava - at least for a little while - and keep them warm. Sturdy enough, too, to hold the heat and survive travel back from the Climb since he didn't dare put them back into his Bag without knowing if they could breathe in there.
"I... I dunno," he admitted, mumbling as he looked down morosely at his own lava wyrms. The lids were of a thick, heat-resistant glass and the one on top was glaring up at him through it, clearly displeased at being contained for any reason. The pots held nothing beyond the animals, however, and were functionally simple cat carriers rather than long-term living facilities. "D'you know what they like to eat? I figured we'd need t'make 'em a bigger enclosure when we got home, probably..." The wyrms should probably have been the last things they obtained so they could have gone straight to the Shrine with them, but surely they could keep the little spitfires alive for a few days while the springs were finished up? At least he could take one of them to Frey as soon as they got home, so they'd only need to house three.
Boreal, meanwhile, after contemplating the lava wyrm that was sticking its tongue out at her had decided it had the right idea, and extended her head to lick the outside of its container with a fire-breather's fine disregard for heat on her tongue.
