Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
If Deimos had learned anything from years of trials, tribulations, and traumas, it was to carve out the opportunities they had. To find time amidst all the other adversities, conflicts, disturbances, and busy hours to simply have for themselves; no paperwork, no messages, no foolish notions, save for the ones they initiated. The early afternoon presented some manner of pause – a break in the routine, where roles had been completed for a minute or two, and they could breathe across the vast plains of greenery, amidst the backdrop of mountains. No Warden titles, no pressing schedules, no orders demanded.He lifted his jawline to the wake of the wind stretching its own limbs, and ran a hand over the long blades of grass, watching as Belial took off, sailing along the thermals with a holler in his carnivorous wake. Zuriel didn’t do the same, opting immediately for dipping her head to graze, a snort following, a flick of her leonine tail. He might’ve followed the unicorn’s wake with a shake of his head, grabbing one of the packs along her back, before throwing it over his shoulder. “Thought it would be nice day for a picnic,” he added with a wrinkle of his nose, tossing a wink in Evie’s direction. “There are some nice spots by the stream.”
