DEIMOS
His descent was driven purely by instinct and derision; talons clutched tightly over his pale, indistinct offering, and maddening twists and turns. Swift, fast, dangerously feral to the point of onslaughts and distortion, spiraling down, down, down simply because he could. A way to manifest other emotions and parallels with nothing else left to fester or wound; tightly winding his extent into oblivion as the press of night clustered in and around late autumn – and only narrowing his exploits when he neared the shrine.
He would’ve instantly placed the multitudes upon the sanction as he’d done before, had he not been distracted by the distinct rumbling, hissing, and grumbling of gourds. Bored, done in, exasperated with the whole lot of them – as they’d been everywhere this season and seemed to show no signs of stopping – Deimos extended his wings in a roughened shooing expanse. He likely could’ve simply compelled them away, but this manifestation seemed easier at first. Perhaps they’d listen.
He would’ve instantly placed the multitudes upon the sanction as he’d done before, had he not been distracted by the distinct rumbling, hissing, and grumbling of gourds. Bored, done in, exasperated with the whole lot of them – as they’d been everywhere this season and seemed to show no signs of stopping – Deimos extended his wings in a roughened shooing expanse. He likely could’ve simply compelled them away, but this manifestation seemed easier at first. Perhaps they’d listen.
gatekeeper of an endless war
where lines between right and wrong
don't exist anymore
