Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Erebos gurgled with absolute glee in response; though he likely didn’t know what a right hook was. Instead, he summoned his solid toddler transgressions and sidled over by his father’s crouching form, sliding another infant handful of snow upon the Sword’s boots. Snorting, Deimos persisted with the construction; a rapid formation of fortifications surrounding the armor; only pausing momentarily to watch and see if Belial was actually helping with the assembly.The peryton didn’t often take direction well, but did gaze back at the Dragoon as if he had three heads. He blinked several times, mind striving to process the information and inquiry over someone that was not his bonded, but the creature was always here for chaos. He flew off for a few moments, snagging at things, and returned with some branches, moss, and ningo feathers – either pulled by himself or found.
Thereafter, the Warden peeked his head around his construction, brow arching at the progress nearby. “Let me know when you are ready.”
