who we are and all that we're trying to be
No unwinding of pestilence and persecution here, not yet, and he was forced to reside in the skin and build of a predator biding their time, analyzing, circumventing, speculating his options, weighing his decisions. That Aisha would think to play a game didn’t surprise him, and he noted it in the back of his mind for later perusals and precisions for training outlets, other experiences to hone in and reflect. I already won then, came first, and were he in human form there could’ve been a grand snicker, an enigmatic smirk, a twist of his mouth indicating the foundation of laughter (for she'd been found; immersed in the plains). Instead, she received a rumble of amusements, the slightest tilt of his head that could’ve been a shrug, a taunt, a goading circumstance (closest allies and friends knew he was overly fond of agent provocateur endeavors).
With no other vehemence or outlet, he wandered forward, an undulation of movement, motion, and maneuvers, calculated strides whispering back into the melee of dried reeds, decayed, withered grass. The Sword’s nose lifted, catching the scent on the cold, chilling wind, as it pushed back obsidian fur, ruffled against paws – primordial, ancient longings and stirrings of another time, another place, in winter’s clutches. The pheasant remained, and so that was where he would go, unfurl, contort, and manifest destruction. Besides, I have dinner plans. Purposefully devilish, impish, in return, Deimos gave her one more glance, and then ducked beneath some longer stalks, following the pathways of the fowl, determined to ambush, catch, and maul.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
