DEIMOS
Hovering, then reeling downward, twisting and turning until he found a suitable landing spot against outcrops, rocks, and embankments, the eagle’s talons clicked against stone, piercing eyes glancing towards the water while Remi spoke. The words caused a snort, not without some motion of amusement, rumbling through his mind as if the entire statement was ludicrous. No. Deimos didn’t wish – aspirations, ambitions, and anything else in between were lacquered, layered, on foundations of skill, practice, precision, and faith in himself, rather than any other cosmic alignment. He’d always been a beast to strive towards making his own fortune. But then again, he thought Remi amidst the same once too.
Were he human, a shrug would’ve maneuvered through his shoulders. Instead, his gaze wandered towards the horizon, on scrapes of sand and dunes, on pools with mysteries and enigmas entangled underneath. Safer, perhaps, than digging too deep. It reminds me of home. Before mountains, where they were wild youths digging into the surf and swell, when they were parading across power they had no ability to understand.
Then his head tilted slightly, back towards the alchemist. Did you?
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
