Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He half-wondered if she’d plainly ignore his yell, turn about or raise her head like a cat, and nearly expected it. His eyes widened in a more jovial, juvenile, and boyish manner as she applied to his attempts at attention, shouting in return. Luckily the hours wouldn’t impact the rest of the neighborhood, and he’d long since given over to indifference over rolled eyes or grumpy features plastered in their direction. At least, for the time being, their only antics on display were exuberance and loud noises - and the broad glint of his grin. Commissioning an anklet, with polished rubies, seemed a very Ru-like inclination, and he shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised. Notions of himself fashioning such a thing were beyond capability or mental image, however. “Yes,” nudging the larger piece of obsidian across the table for her to peer and gaze upon. There were chairs available to her as well, if she sought to indulge in some comforts along the porch. “I had several,” and he shoved the parchment of papers her way too – including the necklace, bangle, hilt of a blade, or a new addition since they’d begun talking, some portions of a belt.
