Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He snorted at the response, before watching the rest go through their assailments again. He walked up and down the line of wall and inclines, inspecting the launching as they flew. Adjustments were made and rendered, when necessary, teamwork building and brewing into cheers and jeers upon conquest or failure. The Sword looked on with a semblance of pride, but only just so, and it was for his compatriots – watching as they prospered and grew from the experience, even if there were undertones of misgivings or confusion, they carried on. Hopefully it would help in future unfurlings.As the dragon sank into their upheavals, worn out from ricocheting stone and pummeling rocks, he went to extend incantations, when there was a ripple amongst them. Brows furrowed, he watched where several pointed, eyes narrowing as the strange appearance of tangleweed emerged from their immodest attempts. Whether or not it would’ve been conjured there, without their volleys and rallies, didn’t much matter. It was the appearance and shape of it; wholly foreign to their soil, that gave him another rankling edge against his spine. His smile disappeared, leaving his usual nonchalance and impassive features to conjure the routine mask while he thought and sought. “All right. We can see what it is,” he rumbled, intending to placate himself and the soldiers. On a long and extended breath, he wove his Air enchantments across the vacant space of wind and snow, picking up the barbed layers of twigs and blue-white limbs, and lifting it upwards.
Eventually, it reached them, but Deimos never let it come into their vicinity, permitting it to linger on his infinite control and command; granting them a chance to study and question. If anything at all, while his mind whirled and contorted into various degrees of calculations and machinations, he’d use it as a learning opportunity. “So we have encountered something new. What should we do first?”
