this is the reckoning
Deimos was made of many aspects, but lately it’d been hordes of control – keeping himself from unraveling at the various quandaries throughout the world, or his region – no time to do much more than action and war and shield, protect, guard, as legions depended on it. Now though, with repose distinguished and finally listlessly poised against his mind, he could turn to the chaos, the release of all that mayhem, bloodshed, and ruin. The ningos simply happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. For their perspective, anyway.
The white fixtures were nothing more than mauled components in his wake – teeth clamping, tearing, ripping, as they screeched, shrieked, and fell apart. Two more flickered to the ground on death spirals or his own motions pummeling them into the ground – his eyes sharply glanced towards Ashetta to see how things were going in her wake.
When it appeared she was holding her own just fine, he could attend to the remaining bluster of buffoons, coming inward towards his skull. Jumping on an extension of muscle and power, he snagged the flying dullard midflight, crunching over spines and bones and fragile aspects until it was still in his maw.
The rest seemed to have received the message loud and clear; either blustering from higher canopies or taking off for elsewhere entirely – gaze following the sound of wings or the desperate zeal of their calls. Only thereafter did he snort, taking in the sight of their zeal. He’d have enough to feed several families in the Citadel, and started collecting them in his jaws, not saying anything to the other wolf as she finished up in her amusements.
The white fixtures were nothing more than mauled components in his wake – teeth clamping, tearing, ripping, as they screeched, shrieked, and fell apart. Two more flickered to the ground on death spirals or his own motions pummeling them into the ground – his eyes sharply glanced towards Ashetta to see how things were going in her wake.
When it appeared she was holding her own just fine, he could attend to the remaining bluster of buffoons, coming inward towards his skull. Jumping on an extension of muscle and power, he snagged the flying dullard midflight, crunching over spines and bones and fragile aspects until it was still in his maw.
The rest seemed to have received the message loud and clear; either blustering from higher canopies or taking off for elsewhere entirely – gaze following the sound of wings or the desperate zeal of their calls. Only thereafter did he snort, taking in the sight of their zeal. He’d have enough to feed several families in the Citadel, and started collecting them in his jaws, not saying anything to the other wolf as she finished up in her amusements.
DEIMOS
