unburned and alive

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame At the notions, he nodded again, indicating his understanding before venturing further into the crags of his memories. D’art’s mortar and pestle was the only thing significant, and he strived to create it from those little images of lives beyond this one. They too appeared in his hands, before being placed down, and at her last warning, conjured two pairs of gloves as well, offering her one in case she went about touching the herb as well. Once the protective measures were in place, he grabbed the hemlock and put it within, and set about orchestrating, grinding the leaves into their proper paste. The Sword would occasionally lift it up for her inspection, uncertain and a bit more delicate with this one, in regards to how it was looking, if things were done properly, and if it had been managed correctly. “Is it ready for the water?” came upon this last round of motions. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace