DEIMOS
He’d once snagged at his wings for liberation, for freedom, for deliverance – not escape – but perhaps sometimes they intertwined, knotted, and gnarled in amongst themselves. Yes, the beast agreed, the lightest of nods given. In the interim, his companions, one of which was more than eager to follow, hastened onward – Zuriel from down below looking quite irritated, and Belial surging along to meet with the rally of wings. The young peryton didn’t snag at their heights, but meandered and soared, clearly bemused and yearning to join in.And then there were hedges, barrows, inclinations of a maze structure not too different from the Labyrinth confines back in the Grounds. However, instead of being told what it was, in case Henry was aware, there was only a similar goading back into the forefront. Childish and juvenile, mischief-laden and borne, causing a slight pause in the spanning and scanning of his mind.
Chicken?
Maybe he had played a similar game before (because it was very infantile and daring and bold – and at one point he hadn’t always been the calculating fiend, the stoic monolith). There’d been days and moments where he’d launched off the Spire alongside his friends, wild and untamed, stupid and rebellious, in similar venues.
So only a brief rumble of agreement passed through, and he dove.
The descent was vivid and stark, and something he’d done numerous times before. The wind stoked and roared, bellowing in his ears, and he welcomed every second of its grace and power, extending his speed, his pursuit, with absolute decadence. He didn’t fear fire; not when it scalded his vein and extended through legacies; it emboldened his efforts as the threat of its chord lingered in his plumage.
Only to meet Henry’s stare with his own challenging, piercing glance – content to land upon one of the sturdy, nearby shrubs.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
