DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
“Would not be the first,” he shrugged and snorted; even in days where he didn’t mean to be an intimidating presence, the notions and semblances still remained. Life as the Reaper had been designed solely for that purpose – the nefarious, the sinister, the towering behemoth who struck down enemies and adversaries without a second thought, who haunted the Aurora Basin from peaks and summits. The Sword was different, but presumably imposing in his own way, merely by structure and height alone. The pumpkin tethered, he collected it firmly in his hand, before plunking it into the basket just as easily as before.
He watched as her bow pinned another nearby, arching a brow, granting a slight smile as he bent down to pick it up, adding it to the others. “How long have you used the bow?” Eternally intrigued by people and their chosen armaments – their range of capabilities and talents, and how they might prosper and extend those attributes.
Belial, not to be outdone by the humans, had neatly culled another small one in his barreling haste, sharp fangs digging into its vines, and beginning to drag it along the floor after he’d finished it off. The Sword drew his stare back to the companion, smothering the sigh walled away in his chest – the little beast would make a good hunter yet, if he ceased to use his victims as toys.
He watched as her bow pinned another nearby, arching a brow, granting a slight smile as he bent down to pick it up, adding it to the others. “How long have you used the bow?” Eternally intrigued by people and their chosen armaments – their range of capabilities and talents, and how they might prosper and extend those attributes.
Belial, not to be outdone by the humans, had neatly culled another small one in his barreling haste, sharp fangs digging into its vines, and beginning to drag it along the floor after he’d finished it off. The Sword drew his stare back to the companion, smothering the sigh walled away in his chest – the little beast would make a good hunter yet, if he ceased to use his victims as toys.
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
