DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Guildmaster had never been a title bestowed upon either Reaper or Sword. The former had risen through soldier ranks until a crown was placed on his head, and the latter resolved to collect and assemble himself in a variety of contortions, until, once more, the General’s mantle was placed on his shoulders. It was certainly a more comfortable role, familiar, habitual, nothing to fall out of his training regime and routine, the stalking, predacious lines, or protective emblems. However, he pondered if being in charge of the Artisan’s Guild was any more of an alteration – just different means, different measures, different modes – and now he wandered through its avenues, streets, and stalls, studying kiosk after kiosk. Before he’d merely ventured in to bother Remi for a variety of reasons, or to ascertain to specific tasks (wedding planning oddly the most utilized). Along his perusal though, for whatever means, seemed to be a large assemblage of cats – perhaps drawn to the attuned quality of tiger formations in his blood, and once he’d meandered into their path, they harried and hurried over to his motions, to his feet, stopping him in his tracks. The beast furrowed his brow, staring down at the Lilliputian versions of his shifting abilities, before crouching, bending to their will. His hands proffered pats, pets, and scratches, listening to the rumbling purrs, the distinction of hunters and carnivorous beings, some ambling along alleyways, pouncing, mighty and ferocious despite their size, earning the slightest chuckle before returning to his spoiling of strays. The monolith’s glances were a quick perusal, a study, an examination in their motions; because he’d only ever either sparred Amalia, completely inexperienced, or dropped from the sky, in the larger feline formation.
Unite and spread the heart apart
