Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Finishing his roll, he partook in the fruit next, sliding a few grapes and berries in his mouth with veritable snaps and crunches, watching the frost foxes irritate one another. Like human siblings, he figured, as they dashed, pounced, rolled, and tumbled through the grass, given over to freedom and liberation, their parents likely close by. One snagged at the other’s legs, nipping and biting, before the other initiated a more formidable sequence, and he was given cause to snort as they drifted in a wild, zealous haze, in between the flattened or hilly terrain. They were much too embedded in their own antics to be concerned with his abrupt noise, so he tilted his head, listening to Evie’s sagacity.Truthfully, he hadn’t taken the time to consider it. “Makes sense,” he whispered lowly; there were multitudes of predators throughout Halo – even if the foxes were one themselves, they’d likely be easy pickings for owls or ursurs. People too, given the fragility of ice, and the alarm of its creaking given over to individuals who made their living across this vast land.
If she’d guessed at his intentions, he said nothing of the sort, intentionally snagging a few more of her favored grapes, before thinking, mulling, over the inquiry. The luxere here were plentiful, and they’d always been one of his favored creatures, even if they were wary of his own existence. Mentally running through the multitudes, he crossed numerous off his list, like banshees and vampire gourds, but found himself wandering back to the same figments. He shifted his head to glance in Zuriel’s direction, who was still content in her grazing. “The unicorn herds were nice to see in King’s End.” Deimos’ gaze pinpointed back to hers, the subtlest arch in his brow. “Do you?”
