DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Deimos returned her wink with a snort and an arch of his brow, the lingering depths of a Cheshire grin forming at the base of his mouth. “Sure,” as if it that was a promise he’d be able to keep – considering the depths they’d already gone, and far more they had yet to face.Mildew was far more easygoing than the multitude of other individuals he was used to, and it set him into a lack of reserve, much less guarded, much less restrained and contained. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. The Sword followed in step, tilting his head, listening to the ways in which her fortunes seemingly worked, gaze settling somewhere along the forged trail, to Belial and the peryton’s insistent antics, or to the demigod, listening all the while. While Zuriel proceeded after him, his brows furrowed, contemplating what the witch meant.
He had a direction he wanted to go in, after all. But the path to it was murky, and lined with more than just the nettles and thorns nestled along the swamp. Long strides and limbs kept to the root ledge, seemingly unbothered by the potential entanglement, surveying the sudden familiarity of the pond. “Potential,” he repeated, amused and teasing, the tone light. “All right.” As if there was a clear indication of this ought to be good. “How do you start?”
Unite and spread the heart apart
