DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
An ease of breath, quiet and fortified, ambled from his chest, at one with the shadows, with the blend of evening and twilight. Softer footfalls, an oeuvre of calm, composed, lissome movements, each paw meticulously placed amongst the grass and reeds. His head turned, eyes ghosting with eerie clarity over to the smaller cat, watching as he eased into the strands of blades, a single, feral nod indicating improvement.
Then his ears twitched vaguely, twisting back and forth at the sensation, at the notion of another thing approaching. A rush of feathers, a trace of plumage, wings tucked against frames, from somewhere nearby. He lifted his nose, tracing over scents, over recognition, pondering if it would be a useful venture, attempt, to meander through. Turkeys, he reached through the bond, the bob of his head indicating the direction, then a swift glance at the other again, as if to ensure Oliver was following. You can practice on them.
Then his ears twitched vaguely, twisting back and forth at the sensation, at the notion of another thing approaching. A rush of feathers, a trace of plumage, wings tucked against frames, from somewhere nearby. He lifted his nose, tracing over scents, over recognition, pondering if it would be a useful venture, attempt, to meander through. Turkeys, he reached through the bond, the bob of his head indicating the direction, then a swift glance at the other again, as if to ensure Oliver was following. You can practice on them.
still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
