DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Deimos fought a grimace; perhaps for his friend, perhaps for the epitome of LongNight, perhaps for all the stories and hearsay, and the vast unknown waiting for them. “Supposedly the monsters have been taken care of,” he paused, roasting a few more proportions, before eating some seeds, chewing quietly, thoughtfully. When he’d consumed his handful, a shrug of his shoulders undulated through the mass of muscle, the uncertainty still plaguing in bounds. “And I have not known them to go anywhere except the Grounds.” In theory, King’s End should be fine. If not, they could always utilize their shifts to escape in quick succession – but he was so tired of having to flee from things.The fire crackled and the pumpkins melded to their swift demise; the Sword taking in the Sentinel’s words and plans. His eyes flickered down to the little griffin, understanding the semblance, the concern, in wanting to keep companions and compatriots safe. “That will be fine.” She could always be another watchful eye, and Belial would likely tolerate her well – he didn’t mull over Zuriel’s emotions within. Some furrowing of his brows followed though, on aspects of funerals and honor. “We could always build a pyre,” easily done with incantations or mere labor. “Or a memorial.” Like he’d done so for Rexanna, years and years ago.
Unite and spread the heart apart
