Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Deimos recognized the very brief parallels but kept them to himself – tugging away at the ground instead, until he was freed due to fire and his own enchantments. “Thank you,” he snorted, taking a few steps away, checking over his soaked pant leg, before rolling his eyes again and continuing the actual path. Zuriel’s smug, superior look was enough for him to stand straighter and pretend nothing occurred.And correct – the moss hadn’t been screaming. He likely would’ve avoided it then. Which meant the other things were nearby, shrieking now that they’d been ignored. “Yes.” Suddenly he was quite willing to desecrate anything of note nearby.
Belial screeched overhead, swooping back into the air as they came closer to the spectral villis – three of them – wails echoing and hovering near the shade of several trees – rags moving, clearly grasping for anyone to step within their range. “What nice ladies,” came on a sarcastic rumble, shaking his head. And visibly unimpressed with the display after everything he’d seen, immediately sent a vicious wake of Mastered Air towards them. Continuing on in conversation, as if this was normal happenstance, he shrugged his shoulders, preparing another wake. "You must not have many void things left in the Grounds."
