Deimos
The energetic echo made him smile, as he stirred the eggs around to scramble. A few additional portions of shredded cheese were added, and then he maneuvered the utensil around, permitting the heat to catch at the morsels. He was content to hear about the comforts they’d provided too – always insistent upon a home that was open to their broad range of family. Welcome and inviting, rather than cold and aloof, indifferent or piercing, or simply gone and nonexistent. “Good,” he mustered, shaking his head at picturing her simply placing her feet within the hearth.
He passed her the skillet with the frying bacon, so she could contend with the meat this time, listening to the sizzle, crackle, and pop, Belial adjusting his stance to sit in between them. A very restful ease; something they hadn’t had in years, and he was fine with relaxing into the fold of it for a moment, while they schemed and meandered. “What were your plans with the ningo?” Deimos, as always, had multitudes. Belial could flush a flock her way, the Sword could compel any nearby; the possibilities were open and wide, but it being her sojourn and quest, the notions had to coincide with the Harpy.
He passed her the skillet with the frying bacon, so she could contend with the meat this time, listening to the sizzle, crackle, and pop, Belial adjusting his stance to sit in between them. A very restful ease; something they hadn’t had in years, and he was fine with relaxing into the fold of it for a moment, while they schemed and meandered. “What were your plans with the ningo?” Deimos, as always, had multitudes. Belial could flush a flock her way, the Sword could compel any nearby; the possibilities were open and wide, but it being her sojourn and quest, the notions had to coincide with the Harpy.
it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites
It's the fire it ignites
