DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
He didn’t relay his concerns over their bond; because they were small, trivial, petty, and moderately stupid, floundering around out of his natural element. Because tigers and eagles and whatever else coiled in his blood were new, foreign, and while exciting, and diverting, playing them into combative modes wasn’t second nature; something he’d have to adapt to, something he’d have to get over and discover. Instead, he shook his head at her curiosity, not expelling or explaining the layers of ridiculousness, casting them aside as more maneuvers came into their exploits and endeavors.
The beast didn’t expect her to merely flop down upon the ground either, on her back while legs remained wild; he tilted his head, knowing her far too well to even begin to note submission on her part. Resignation and docility tended not to be on their repertoire, so he was immediately suspicious, feline eyes managing to narrow a fraction, much more Sword-like than he’d been this entire time – before a wave of snow pelted him from their lengthy tail, swatting him along the head. It bound and collected on his fur until he shook, a growl ricocheting back through his lungs, reverberating in his movements.
Maybe that was all he needed; a nice, cold wake-up call.
Spurned on by the denizens of mischief, he dove his massive paws down into the snow, and then immediately lifted them up, as if he were half-launching into the air again. Except this time, he merely seemed to toss the intervals of rime, powder, and frozen ether back towards her, a tiger’s version of snowball throwing.
The beast didn’t expect her to merely flop down upon the ground either, on her back while legs remained wild; he tilted his head, knowing her far too well to even begin to note submission on her part. Resignation and docility tended not to be on their repertoire, so he was immediately suspicious, feline eyes managing to narrow a fraction, much more Sword-like than he’d been this entire time – before a wave of snow pelted him from their lengthy tail, swatting him along the head. It bound and collected on his fur until he shook, a growl ricocheting back through his lungs, reverberating in his movements.
Maybe that was all he needed; a nice, cold wake-up call.
Spurned on by the denizens of mischief, he dove his massive paws down into the snow, and then immediately lifted them up, as if he were half-launching into the air again. Except this time, he merely seemed to toss the intervals of rime, powder, and frozen ether back towards her, a tiger’s version of snowball throwing.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
