Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Vengeance was quick and keen, and it was satisfaction to his senses to hear the deluge of snow meet its mark – sputtering, laughter, all concessions to the inevitable. With a wry smirk, he permitted his own head to peer over the top of the fortress, releasing Erebos from the constant hold, to which the toddler giggled and teetered, wobbling to peek around the corner with his own semblance of glee. “You did well,” Deimos rumbled, eventually returning to his full height, once they were out of the proximity of the fortification, already beginning to peel the armor out of the snowy bulwarks. “And thank you for helping. That was amusing.” And a much more diverting option than some others that had been rampaging through his mind. “We can head back to the Citadel for a warm meal,” and he smiled down at his son, who also seemed delighted with the idea, before beckoning companions and Dragoons to follow suit.
[FIN]
