// object of desire //
One of the two annual trips to Halo to see his family and Thorn has managed to slip away from the Mercer’s long enough to find himself back in the Citadel. Bundled in sweaters and jackets for comfort, the courtesan follows the paths idly like he had when he was a kid. Only this time, he ends up at the palace, where he can see soldiers practicing their magic and weaponry, and Thorn would be lying if a part of him didn’t crave the idea of seeing what he could do in an instance like this.
Slipping inside, he doesn’t see Deimos at first. He hovers near the targets that sit up high, and without a weapon in his hand he simply watches it, wondering how far he might be able to get his air magic to work to reach it. He doesn’t have a chance, though, because as soon as that thought blooms in his mind, the targets warp and twist, are unleashed. It’s beautiful and almost a touch awe inspiring when his seafoam gaze lands on Deimos and recognition sparks. “Wow! That was really fuckin’ cool.” Thorn says in both greeting and a touch of excitement, no embarrassment for sneaking into an in progress training session. Thorn hopes he remembers him, even if he’d be quite literally a thorn in his side the last time they talked.
Slipping inside, he doesn’t see Deimos at first. He hovers near the targets that sit up high, and without a weapon in his hand he simply watches it, wondering how far he might be able to get his air magic to work to reach it. He doesn’t have a chance, though, because as soon as that thought blooms in his mind, the targets warp and twist, are unleashed. It’s beautiful and almost a touch awe inspiring when his seafoam gaze lands on Deimos and recognition sparks. “Wow! That was really fuckin’ cool.” Thorn says in both greeting and a touch of excitement, no embarrassment for sneaking into an in progress training session. Thorn hopes he remembers him, even if he’d be quite literally a thorn in his side the last time they talked.
THORN
