Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Deimos strived, with great difficulty, to not let his own apprehension, trepidation, and overall disquiet pierce through the bond. Instead, the emotions stuck to his ribs and his spine, lining through his shoulders, doing away with any restful components. That would likely only come again when the Family was well and truly destroyed, and given how things were going lately, in a very, long, distant future.Snorting at the inquiry, as if offended that he’d even had to ask, Deimos pulled open one of the cabinets, and placed a large bag of said chocolate chips upon the counter. “Of course.” Thereafter, he started preparing the baking sheets, lining it with parchment paper to make the notions of scraping them off far easier. “I am sorry about your mageglass, again,” he noted, not wanting the semblances to be overridden by the latest events. “Most of our attention, understandably, has gone to the Tundra.”
