I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Belial saw the arrow targeted and pinpointed on him initially; and coursing through their bond meant Deimos’s mind squared upon it too. Cold, calculated, and swift, within a moment he had excused himself from the trackers and snagged within his Air magic to pull the peryton straight from the sky – a maneuver he knew well, had practiced time after time, until the little beast was tucked underneath his elbow, and his stare was upon the culprit. Apologies had been lost amidst the wind and his own machinations – spine straight, taut, pondering over scruples and antics and necessities.
Alys.
His brows furrowed, visibly confused. Why she was here – especially after everything that had occurred? “I know he is obnoxious,” the Sword offered, trying to find a placating mode over what he figured must’ve been some role of misunderstanding, “but I do not think he deserves your ire.”
Alys.
His brows furrowed, visibly confused. Why she was here – especially after everything that had occurred? “I know he is obnoxious,” the Sword offered, trying to find a placating mode over what he figured must’ve been some role of misunderstanding, “but I do not think he deserves your ire.”
DEIMOS
