DEIMOS
It was another day for hunting.Some of them had blended into one another lately, with fishing, with journeying along the tundra alongside Noah, but the Sword preferred stockpiling supplies, especially when they could be frozen, well before it was too late. The semblances of Deepfrost would be upon them at some point, and though he’d yet to experience the season here, the beast had lived in mountains long enough within previous worlds to know there’d be limitations. There was also the quest received from Ludo to consider, wishbones and meat alike.
He opted to fly for this occasion, to spirit into liberation and deliverance, unfurl the wings, the feathers, the plumage that had given him instant freedom so long ago. It was a breathtaking vestige once more the moment he took to the air, the eagle adornments glorifying his restless, predacious heart, giving in to primordial fascinations, circling, hovering, rampaging along the outskirts of the Citadel. He dove around high spires, chased after phantom shadows, embraced the glacial wind rippling, beating against his form, and once he’d hastened the semblances of liberty again – it was time to stalk.
Luckily, his prey were in plentiful supply, and he doubted Chulane would notice a bunch of the wild ones missing. A flock of ningos happened to be clustered and gathered around some of the market, and though he’d prefer to maim and maul out of plain sight, the raptor proportions of him didn’t care. He landed silently, quietly, on one of the high-reaching stones, biding his time, staring down upon the mild-mannered and somewhat dim birds, intending to pick out a few of the weakened vestiges.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
