Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
The yelping was enough of an amusement as they continued their descent; Deimos quietly chuckling to himself. The ridiculous fault lines thereafter though, he could only witness from the periphery of his vision – cursing and crashing, until the Dragoon and vessel tumbled onward in a display of absolute ridiculousness that had the Sword belly-laughing – though he tried to hide it by muffling his face into his coat.As he and Erebos came to the bottom of the hill, the toddler only just realized something else had occurred. ”Wot happen?” he pointed and questioned innocently enough, and the Sword sighed, beginning to take both of them out of the sled and venture towards the catapulted soldier. In another threshold, the father might have told his son that it was called ‘messing with the wrong individual’, but for now, he settled the youth upon the snow, so the toddler could go teetering beside his long legs. “He has not practiced enough,” Deimos opted to explain, and Erebos nodded as if this could be the only answer. “You all right?” came the deep rumbling tone thereafter – having no healing measures on him and Zuriel far back at the Citadel.
