who we are and all that we're trying to be
His expectations for deer were short-lived – the quiet copse flickered apart at heavy paws on leaves, and his head shifted swiftly in the direction of the noises. It was wolfish, but the long, lengthy legs were an indication of some other distinct characteristic, and he tilted his head a fraction, a silent perusal, a study, predator and predator. He pondered the next set of traversing, the sojourn and route it would take, if it thought him an adequate beast to slink rapacity within, or if he was too massive, too threatening, too intimidating to be bothered with. His eyes, his skin, his figure, dauntless and enduring, surviving battle upon battle, honed instincts along the weapon in his hands, if it was going to become a necessity in a matter of moments – grasp slowly maneuvering towards the string, intending to pull it taut the instant movements became ominous and demanding.
Except then – the beast altered its form, and he should’ve known, really, that there was another Attuned in the midst. Too human in its approach, too steady in its calculations.
He gave no indication of his surprise, save for an upturned, arched brow, a man who had seen many modifications and adjustments: plumes and feathers where fingers clenched, fur where fury bristled, fangs and talons when the stakes became too high. Unfortunately, that was where the recognition ended – he had no notion or recollection of the other man, blonde tassels, a shorter stature, narrow, lean, cut from some working cloth. Deimos rose then, carnivore irreverence as he maneuvered upright, Colossus and mountain, monolith of stone, earth, and ice, contemplating the vocals, the unleashed inquiry.
Help him hunt? The sword rarely had assistance in obtaining his prey – though Lily had sought to help once before, when his arrow had gone straight and flown true, taking back the carcass and meat for the long winter’s evenings. But it appeared scarce today, nothing coming by for several hours, or they’d sniffed him out, found his predilections unsettling, and chose to cross paths another day. “If you wish,” he rumbled, voice deep and puzzled. “What would you like in return?” Mutual exchanges, a bartering system with strangers; done more than once before, when they weren’t all scattered like storms, scars, and stars. Perhaps some of the cut, when he gutted and removed, when he split bones and marrow apart? And why, when he was likely capable himself?
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
