Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“Did she?” He smirked, just a little more, unsurprised by Ru’s compulsion tendencies, or command of incantations. “Still better than anything Zariah came up with, I hope,” with some bitterness reserved for the Merciless and everything she’d once claimed, before Evie’s hands were at him again, and he snorted once more, taken aback by the direction. “I have not watched clouds since I was a child,” which probably wouldn’t shock many, given the nature of his youth, and everything else that occurred thereafter. Soldiers didn’t have time to stare openly at the sky, unless a barrage or assault was coming from there, and scenic notions rarely passed through a landscape riddled and rankled with adversaries. A misplaced sigh, as if he didn’t know what to do anymore, ensured the food was tucked away, likely to be finished off by Belial.
The Sword didn’t stretch his body all the way down – leaning back on his elbows instead, primordial readiness and apprehension not permitting a lack of safety on all accounts – before his piercing eyes flickered upward, glancing at the puffy sentiments. “Bird,” he announced with the jutting of his jawline, to a simplistic design with outstretched wings.
