{se} you got that sugar in your voice

DEIMOS

the resurrected sword

An amiable and agreeable assortment of potential plans, Belial’s wildcard antics notwithstanding. Without the peryton underfoot at the moment, anyway, they could accomplish a greater amount of tasks, to the point where Deimos animated the thread again simultaneously while peeling away strips of spinach. Air incantations ensured the string had the right amount of dance and spring to it, while getting the cub off his heels and potentially stepped on.

As for the trebuchet, he could only shrug, plans not all entirely in motion. “Not certain yet. Want to see if I can even achieve it first,” especially since the greater likelihood was the structure catching fire, and then he’d have to start over from scratch. Breaking the leaves into smaller portions, more bite-sized than giant adornments, he motioned back to the pantry, snagging at some red onion and a knife from the utensils drawer.

As for the Ancients, his thoughts churned. “I have seen several others, not including Kiada,” for she would always be a special case and place in his heart. “Perhaps we will learn more about them soon enough,” with this upcoming festival – uncertain if he should apprehensive or at ease about the entire matter.

under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed