who we are and all that we're trying to be
A merry little band indeed.
He would’ve snorted at the implications, had the beast not been distracted by his efforts. Claws gripped into earth, pulling and pushing it apart, and though it would’ve been far easier to implement using his enchantments or incantations, the work coiled into his muscles, into his movements, nearly a relief to put the strength and might to use. Down, down, down he worked, until eventually the nails scraped against a jagged surface.
Not soil, not loam. A rock, sharp, and despite his insistence at poking and prodding it, had compelled itself to not budge, lodged in its ancient threshold. It seemed quite determined to remain, and might have, had it not met him, another incredibly stubborn, seditious, iniquitous individual.
With a sneer designated solely for the stone, he maneuvered off to the left, digging there, intending to find the boundaries or outlines of its contents, making it easier to pry from the holding, and to carry on with his pursuits.
--
Deimos digs off to the left side of the rock, trying to find its edges in order to get it out.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
