Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“I do not know what you mean,” portrayed in a heightened jawline and false sense of superiority, the Sword made room as she settled into agreement and fled via the window. Snorting, he sought to prepare his own set of volleys and maneuvers when – The pressing sparks straight to his glutes left a sharp, prickling sensation, and a low growl flickering through his throat. “Really,” he murmured, as if she was above such motives, or that he wasn’t already seeking out the assemblages of revenge.
Shifting efficiently, even with the pain residing and rampaging down the back of his thighs, he gave a smirk bordering on seditious – and forged a massive snowball. Snagging it from the ground, he utilized his brute strength to simply hurl it in her direction – though not without a surprise of his own – waiting until just the last moment for it to break apart into multiple barrages via water, earth, and air, instead of just one vicious arrangement.
