Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
There might have been a time before when he was restless amongst these folds of humanity too; years and years and years ago, he wouldn’t have even bothered to do anything but lurk in the shadows. Now, the only toils spiraling against his spine were memories of disasters, and the residual alert of a predator ready for destruction to uncoil all around him. His eyes went to the fidgeting, agitated movements, the effigy not quite done nestled in their hands. A place of power – and his head tilted vaguely again, wandering further into the line, ignoring the grumbles as Chaele joined in his designated spot. His voice dropped to a low rumble, barely more than a deep whisper, as if away from irritated and exasperated ears. “Did you find the fire then?” Presuming, perhaps, the nestled flames in the heart of the Queen’s Gambit – where he’d launched and leapt over too.
Thereafter, his gaze lifted back to the booth, watching as the line slowly dwindled in front of them, proceeding like a moving monolith each time another departed. The statement made by the shaman caused another brief curl of his boyish grin, not out of malice or menace, but the small sentiments of amusement. “Have you ever tried it?”
