He could understand the notion of the years toiling together – one foot in front of the other for so long that when one glanced up, the trees had shifted and changed, the people had aged, the world had altered and turned into something else. He’d just always, somehow, someway, been in the thick of it instead – pulled into the orbit of bedlam and stood amidst the eye of the storm. The Sword couldn’t argue which one was better, more weighted or cumbersome, more overbearing or nothing at all – but the comprehension was there just the same, as they pulled the sled, as tundra wakes were naught more than a means to ends.
Nor could he promise that it would happen for the other man either – something, somewhere down the lines, but he could convey an offer, he supposed. A stepping stone, a pathway, whether or not Damien chose to traverse along those particular rocks and pebbles. “Well, if this hunt goes well, and you are interested in joining, there is always the guild.” Purpose, though driven through mauling and safety, enough to convey multiple people and the urgency to shield and protect; experiences meant to be not confounding, but necessary acts for Caido itself.
Leaving that for Damien to peruse, he nodded at the agreement and accord. Leaving the sled where it was, he shifted immediately, bounding into his massive hellhound form, before following the scent, and Belial’s outreach, across the plains of white. He’d be a stark contrast against the hues and colors, but only for a few moments, as he ducked around an outcropping of rocks, and spied the herd of deer. Some were restless, some were avoidant, and some weren’t paying attention at all, and it’d give him an opportunity to strike while the other Halovian found a decent spot to take his shots.
The peryton joined him the moment he called, and together they started – ferocious and keen, swift and eager, one bark sent a ricochet of movement through the beasts. Heads raised high and tails flagged, and they were suddenly a running cavalcade of panic. With Belial nearby and swarming, flanking, Deimos could do the same, yielding them to the area he’d recently left.
Nor could he promise that it would happen for the other man either – something, somewhere down the lines, but he could convey an offer, he supposed. A stepping stone, a pathway, whether or not Damien chose to traverse along those particular rocks and pebbles. “Well, if this hunt goes well, and you are interested in joining, there is always the guild.” Purpose, though driven through mauling and safety, enough to convey multiple people and the urgency to shield and protect; experiences meant to be not confounding, but necessary acts for Caido itself.
Leaving that for Damien to peruse, he nodded at the agreement and accord. Leaving the sled where it was, he shifted immediately, bounding into his massive hellhound form, before following the scent, and Belial’s outreach, across the plains of white. He’d be a stark contrast against the hues and colors, but only for a few moments, as he ducked around an outcropping of rocks, and spied the herd of deer. Some were restless, some were avoidant, and some weren’t paying attention at all, and it’d give him an opportunity to strike while the other Halovian found a decent spot to take his shots.
The peryton joined him the moment he called, and together they started – ferocious and keen, swift and eager, one bark sent a ricochet of movement through the beasts. Heads raised high and tails flagged, and they were suddenly a running cavalcade of panic. With Belial nearby and swarming, flanking, Deimos could do the same, yielding them to the area he’d recently left.
Deimos
I will either find a way, or make one
