Deimos
Deimos was familiar with this particular blade – he’d crafted it. His brow arched but he otherwise said nothing at all, listening quietly and silently as Sah spoke, as the clang of metal reverberated against the hollers of the rest of the soldiers. The Sword wondered if he was being insulted in some roundabout way, or if it was merely the truth of the matter: Sah’s magic had overtaken the weapon, which had remained stagnant, as most would if not given proper attention too.
Tilting his head, canine and feline in matching tactics, tendencies, and habits, he presented known options to the hunter. “Gods are capable of upgrading your weapons.” He’d seen Sah amidst the dream with Safrin, somehow loyal to her despite all the years of avoidance; perhaps he hadn’t snagged at opportunities in discussions with the cosmic herald. “I can also improve them.” Not as well as the deities, but certainly to the best of his ability.
Tilting his head, canine and feline in matching tactics, tendencies, and habits, he presented known options to the hunter. “Gods are capable of upgrading your weapons.” He’d seen Sah amidst the dream with Safrin, somehow loyal to her despite all the years of avoidance; perhaps he hadn’t snagged at opportunities in discussions with the cosmic herald. “I can also improve them.” Not as well as the deities, but certainly to the best of his ability.
you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight
all venom and fistfight
