DEIMOS
Zuriel eyed Noah; a speculative, imperceptible glance. It said nothing and everything all at once – the weight of disapproval, the haughtiness of her species, the myriad wisdom behind her piercing brow. She snorted, accepting the acknowledgments of her strength, accord, and efforts. The mare knew her capabilities, and quite frankly never understood why the rest of the world pushed themselves to the brink. Maybe that was why she stayed. Maybe that was why she bonded to the monolith. She’d never say. Instead, the equine marched back to the Sword’s side, a diligent mask back in place while he created and contorted.Deimos, never one to be considered arrogant, had eternally concocted his incantations with little fanfare. The nefarious ones reached and scorched, bludgeoned and diminished, destroyed and damaged. The lighter ones coasted, ghosted, and pervaded. Those notched in between simply permitted things to become, to be, created and managed from the semblances of his mind. They weren’t ever to put on a show; meaning, purpose, and goals behind their contortions, and as the sled manifested, he’d forgotten others had yet to see him undergo these feats. In the Hollowed Grounds, amongst the dangerous, treacherous layers they clambered and tethered themselves to, it was likely expected. He hadn’t been in Halo long enough to establish any sort of reputation other than his statuesque presence.
He’d forgotten the wakes of some earths had yet to see his visions come to life – and eyes widened briefly at the compliment extended as the sleigh’s expanse was completed. The gilded glow from his palms ceased, and he lifted his head back up from the inspection of his handiwork. “Thank you.” Uncertain what to do with the commendation thereafter, he hastened it to the back of his mind, formulating notions and nuances back into the scene – puncturing gaze landing upon the two ursurs. “I thought we could load them on and drag them back.”
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
