[Training] spikey snow castles

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Long, sweeping strides carried him throughout the Citadel’s quarters; a daily patrol, combined with a stroll, an inclining of his head in all directions of the unwavering fortitude – eyes upon the sky briefly, and then towards the walls, the masses of people in the market square. A few nods of his head extended to those familiar, and then sharpened, narrowed, as he rounded a corner and found another drifting and amongst the streets. It took him a moment, blinking, to ponder over the scene. Oliver wasn’t an expected figure, though not unwelcome; but last he’d known and seen of the man had been amongst the Grounds, and the scrawl of a letter, sent in correspondence over his suspicions. Near a pile of snow. Maybe…building onto it. He really couldn’t be sure, and the evidence of his confusion caused a tilt of his head, a. rumble of his voice exuding off of the high-rises, and the multitude of snow. “Oliver,” by address first, brow arching in the midst of the day, his hands lingering down in the makeshift pockets of his furs and coat. “What are you doing?” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace