Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Deimos had been the sort to always practice – likely stemming from his instructional, soldier days in his youth, regimented, structured, and refined to become better and better. It was why he trained right alongside the Shields, ensuring his abilities were curated just the same. In the same stead, machinations, concoctions, and incantations were cycling and contorting through his mind at any given hour – ensuring Halo was provided the right means and measures for tasks ahead.Even the speculative ones.
At Sah’s curiosity and agreement, his grin grew wider. Maybe it was inspired from stories of the banshee queen and her handmaidens, or the collective assortment of dragons infiltrating and bombarding the Citadel walls. “A three-pronged attack with differing elements.” Pointing towards the aligned figures, all in various disarray or effigies of his less than favorite people, he permitted Sah a moment to comprehend. “I want to see how many we can pummel simultaneously." Pausing, head tilting, he studied the targets from their distance. “I can use my fire and water, while you implement your lightning.” And see just how far they could go.
