Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Leaving time for himself, friends, and loved ones had been a goal for the Sword since taking on Wardenship – mostly because he knew exactly who he was, and what he would do, given enough time and pressure. The sheer determination in not sinking into apprehension, constant overwork, and driving himself straight into nothingness combined into a decent set of boundaries – for the time being. Work was completed, and then there’d be moments of play.Which was to be an ursur hunt.
Leaving the barracks behind, and the recruits, fellow warriors, and soldiers efficiently scolded, reprimanded, trained, or complimented for the hour, he marched towards the gates, snagging at his companions. Belial was more than eager to unfurl his wings and glide ahead, while Zuriel stayed along his side, waiting as he pulled on his gloves.
A jut of his jawline came along before the rumble of his greetings. “Sah,” he uttered, dragging the sled along behind him. “I am. Are you?” Perhaps meant to be a tease, considering the last altercations with hunts.
