Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Given Erebos’s constant experiences with Belial, Zuriel, and Micah, he latched onto Pipsqueak’s presence naturally – and they were instant allies and companions, as the youth tossed snow about and giggled when the dragon reacted. With the toddler entertained, Deimos could listen to the rest of Koa’s statements – arching his brow at the notion of copies already made. “You came prepared,” which was growth – and a standard he didn’t see many display recently. “Thank you again.” He meant the gratitude and acknowledgments, without this, they wouldn’t know the environmental factors of what they could be potentially facing – long with multitude of other quandaries. “I should probably be making some gas masks then.” At the implication of others being allotted the same information, his eyes narrowed, speculating over the names instantly coming to mind. “Hadama. I will speak to Sah once we return and see if he would be interested too. I can show him mine and we can go from there.”
His head tilted vaguely at the semblances of the Dragoon having already put something together – smiling a little at the details of Safrin’s assistance. “I see. Air or gravity infused punches?”
