DEIMOS
They believe nothing can reach us
And pull us out of the boundless gloom
And pull us out of the boundless gloom
Curiosity bound the Sword to watch and bear witness to Jigano’s anchoring techniques and talents, sliding out of the way, but just so, eyes drifting along the ground as stalls and structures sunk, soil reaffirming its presence, its substance, its fortifying balance. Then vines curled and coiled, a structural framework of living masses, the beast maneuvering to arch his brow at the Loreseeker’s murmur; new. Growth and strength, foundational twists and turns, both foreign and from within. He crouched to peer further, only witnessing earthen contortions via Remi’s gifts and talents. “Impressive,” he remarked, a compliment, before standing back and allowing more things to unfold.
If Loren thought he wasn’t artistically inclined, Deimos didn’t have much to say about his own skills in that regard, While he waited for Loren to finish so he could orchestrate his own measures, he watched – telekinesis unfurling, badger motions intertwining, carving claws into the wood; paw prints notched, a fleeting smirk on the General’s features. He shook his head, but was otherwise amused, and after attaching strings to the finished signs, shifted himself, noble, tawny wings brandished, plumes extended. Talons stretched to grab hold of the signs and their thread, going from each stall on the highest points and placing them along the nails already extended there – occasionally having the itch of perfection and adjusting them accordingly.
Finished, successful on all three fronts, he glided back down, reappearing as the monolith. “I would like to make some shelves for each stall,” which meant all three could work on the same thing, clamber and cobble things together – his eyes drifting to the timber already waiting along the sidelines, cut and brandished. He demonstrated the notions and ideas for each with a demonstration, grabbing hold of the shelving material, placing them along with nails and hammer on the first stall, before following through on a fanning enterprise, so everything was available to see, wares on display for anyone passing by.
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Good work team! Let’s build some shelves!
If Loren thought he wasn’t artistically inclined, Deimos didn’t have much to say about his own skills in that regard, While he waited for Loren to finish so he could orchestrate his own measures, he watched – telekinesis unfurling, badger motions intertwining, carving claws into the wood; paw prints notched, a fleeting smirk on the General’s features. He shook his head, but was otherwise amused, and after attaching strings to the finished signs, shifted himself, noble, tawny wings brandished, plumes extended. Talons stretched to grab hold of the signs and their thread, going from each stall on the highest points and placing them along the nails already extended there – occasionally having the itch of perfection and adjusting them accordingly.
Finished, successful on all three fronts, he glided back down, reappearing as the monolith. “I would like to make some shelves for each stall,” which meant all three could work on the same thing, clamber and cobble things together – his eyes drifting to the timber already waiting along the sidelines, cut and brandished. He demonstrated the notions and ideas for each with a demonstration, grabbing hold of the shelving material, placing them along with nails and hammer on the first stall, before following through on a fanning enterprise, so everything was available to see, wares on display for anyone passing by.
--
Good work team! Let’s build some shelves!
They're wrong
