DEIMOS
A more obstinate, tenacious moment could have been built within those flapping, shooing motions; Deimos hadn’t often been chased out of any parameter or region. Not since he was a child. If a frown could’ve appeared on the eagle’s features, muscles rendered in his typical formation, it would’ve indicated his thoughts on the matter. But Loren seemed fine, and he was fully capable of healing himself. The Sword had no other part here – combat over, done in with too much power and accord, and the goose clearly wanted to recover on his own. So instead, a sigh traced its way through him, and he nodded. Thank you for the training. He was half-tempted to tell him to find his form if he required more, but based on Loren’s reel of experiences with the General’s actions, perhaps it would be readily ignored or refused. Then he flapped his wings, lifting his form back up into the sky, continuing his wandering, his wayfaring directions, the distraction gone and ceased.
(-FIN)
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
