The steady tap of their wooden staff on stone had become a regular indicator of Halcyon's presence nowadays should one lack the Hive connection to instantly detect the reassuring brush of their mind against the rest of the network. While their purpose remained spanning multiple areas, focus as of late had dwelt upon shoring up personal defenses so that none under their watch could suffer the bite of magic once more in the line of duty. Drones of a militaristic build such as their current organizer Alcina indeed had the upper hand, even in a diminished form, when it came to matters of battle. Nevertheless, as a servant of Order, obligations must be fulfilled; they would take on whatever role most demanded their careful touch.

At the moment, that meant reestablishing all which had been discarded of, the crystalline perfection uprooted in favor of chaotic weeds. Crouching down, one hand remaining on their staff, they placed a palm down where scorch marks blackened rock and bone alike. Although the scent had long since faded, memory disrupted the desired image of uniform white threads: smoke and burning flesh rose to nostrils. Claws scratched parallel lines as knuckles clenched together.

Never again.

"Confounding," they murmured to themselves.

Preferring to coordinate without risking unwanted listeners, they added, Let your instincts guide you as they wish in restoring these grounds. I shall practice diligence in maintaining our influence as well and render aid if required.