whole and apart and in-between

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame In Deimos’ experience, one adversary was enough to conjure more. To incite derision, to coax rebellion, to toss and topple regimes; he’d seen it clearly, concisely, in the rabble and ruin of kingdoms. Cannibals left to remain, restore, and re-forge, was just another incident waiting to happen. There was not much time or resources to do anything about it now, but a notion for the future, for the twist of the inevitable, for fate to bombard and sway. So he nodded in due course and agreement, the sentiments hidden, tucked away, while he continued to divide and quarter the pieces of ningo. He didn’t expect the next response, and his brows furrowed. Given how often Loren had assisted him in various tasks, and vice versa, the Sword might’ve felt obliged to assist. It was just the notion of Frey that gave him pause, a sensation of discomfort and increased taciturn lacquer sticking to the back of his throat. The warning was enough to wage it was not for him, and he snorted, shaking his head. “Best to ask someone better suited then.” Deflection imparted, he glanced down at the wishbone, redirected by the next inquiry. “Luxere antlers and an ursur claw. Figured I would go into the Tundra and see what I can find.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace