DEIMOS
Deimos interacted with the public daily – but it’d been in another role, and this one still didn’t fit quite right across his shoulders. Nonetheless, his eyes watched the heat of the fire, the maelstrom of the modest inferno ensconced in a forger’s tracings, careful not to follow and chase after the bombardments with his own instinctual conflagration. He hadn’t been asked by either blacksmith nor Evergreen, so the arch of his brow followed her movements too, speculating, narrowing, as he leaned against the wall. “Interesting,” he added, despite his suspicions, intuition, ponderings, and experience on the latter. Tilting his head, studying and reflecting, he motioned towards the farrier with a line of his jaw. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Only thereafter, at the tacit permission from Evie, did the Sword advance from the timber surface, relinquishing flame to bite and chase at the tooth with merely his presence. Not much, but enough, for tools to bombard, for incantations to reside, for the powers to aim and preside.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
