DEIMOS
“We will see,” he promised and assured with a light smile, before setting to work. Like so many times before, he raised his hands in front of him, slightly below his chest, and the gilded flow between palms began to form. Slow, steady, carved out of his mind’s eye, the incantations unfurled and conformed in each declaration, in each controlled precision, carving out its own sanctions, presiding in the wake of immersed flame. Defined by the stretch of antlers, and then bear paws upon the sides, the quiver took shape efficiently, quickly, so in the span of several breaths, the tool was there in his hands. As if this was all very normal, he turned back to her without a word, pondering over the necessities. “I may have some grouse feathers leftover, if you want to use those.” They weren’t any bright, vivid hues; clearly intending camouflage until Belial had found them outright.
While he worked on the straps of the quiver, ensuring they were in working order, he didn’t expect the inquiry. Brows furrowing, a sigh managed to rattle its way through his lungs, pondering, wondering, if he was falling back into old habits again. “Yes. And I am usually willing.” To lend his magic, his power, his strength back into the fold. To shield. To protect. To defend. And there’d been other instances where he’d simply been used; thoughts wandering to LongNight provisions last year – weapons made and no gratitude from a Wraith who used every moment to play the victim. Or to Nate, hands out in some avaricious zeal, defiance emerging when he couldn’t get what he wanted immediately. “But I am trying to be better about it.” Boundaries. No chains, no tethers, no lines, no working himself into exhaustion.
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Deimos has made: Fire Quiver | A magical quiver that turns any arrow placed within into a flaming projectile that ignites upon impact.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
