Deimos
The Sword had spent most of the morning within the barracks, content with the clashing of metal and the crashing of shields, enforcing more skills and instruction into the soldiers, before hastening towards the guild with Erebos in tow. The youth’s walking, and simultaneously the running, had flourished, which meant he’d kept him only slightly caged and trapped within the section of the library, ensuring the fire within the hearth was alive and well, and checking over some of the notes in journals.
He'd kept him momentarily occupied with a gigantic crayon and some paper (from the corner of his eye he could see the chunky grasp going wide and there’d be more to clean off the table later), getting ready to sit nearby and fill out of his own paperwork.
Visitors, or guild members, going back and forth wasn’t out of the norm – so he thought nothing of it when footsteps lingered nearby, and only arched a brow, tilted his head vaguely, about to come up with some greeting when the figure seemed to back into him anyway. Unyielding, he glanced behind him to see it was Theea, snorting when the apology came forth. It was unusual when he wasn’t noticed, despite the fact that he often wished it. “Hope it meets your approval.” The ceiling, anyway – she’d have to contend with her spatial awareness another day.
Glancing upwards, Erebos was temporarily distracted from his rampant crayon movements, waving as he so often did with anyone nearby, already far more socially inclined. ”Hi!” came out loud and boisterous, while his father maneuvered around the surface, opening to the area on frost foxes. “Were you looking for something?”
He'd kept him momentarily occupied with a gigantic crayon and some paper (from the corner of his eye he could see the chunky grasp going wide and there’d be more to clean off the table later), getting ready to sit nearby and fill out of his own paperwork.
Visitors, or guild members, going back and forth wasn’t out of the norm – so he thought nothing of it when footsteps lingered nearby, and only arched a brow, tilted his head vaguely, about to come up with some greeting when the figure seemed to back into him anyway. Unyielding, he glanced behind him to see it was Theea, snorting when the apology came forth. It was unusual when he wasn’t noticed, despite the fact that he often wished it. “Hope it meets your approval.” The ceiling, anyway – she’d have to contend with her spatial awareness another day.
Glancing upwards, Erebos was temporarily distracted from his rampant crayon movements, waving as he so often did with anyone nearby, already far more socially inclined. ”Hi!” came out loud and boisterous, while his father maneuvered around the surface, opening to the area on frost foxes. “Were you looking for something?”
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
