Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
There was a brief lull in between waiting for the group embarking for shiny stones, impending upheavals, and gardening throes, so Deimos opted to take advantage of the few moments. Rather than using it to rest, he snagged at his toddler and companion entourage for the day’s outing, already beginning to thread his way through the village.“Let’s see if we can find something your mother would like,” he rumbled to the youth overhead, hanging onto Erebos’ legs as the child sat on his shoulders, giggling all the while. The toddler eventually opted to lean entirely on the Sword’s head, elbows resting just so, as he peered around booths. Deimos did much the same, but trusted Erebos’ ability to spot something entertaining or shiny, because his gaze went frequently downward, intending to see if there was a certain set of roses sprouting up from wooden beams and kiosks.
But with Zuriel behind him, and Belial soaring overhead, keeping a lookout, the Warden was hopeful, because that was all he could have in these sort of fortune-based circumstances.
