Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He snorted at Evie’s doomed argument, brow arching at the weight of false implications; though not her suspicions, which caused a brief bout of laughter. “Fair enough.” Had there not been food at all, he would’ve stuck and clung to the shadows and simply waited the hours out, hoping to somehow dissipate into the corridor and be left alone for the duration of the awkward evening.With no decision made on either food or dancing, the choice was ultimately made for them when Ghilio’s appearance was made whole, real, and tangible. The Sword had never seen the spriggan personally, but perhaps he should’ve expected the way the seasonal deity took shape – a poignant representation of earth and renewal. The beckoning made them draw near, and he thought nothing more of it –
- until suddenly there was another crown on his head, and a cup with far more than simple water in it. His eyes widened more than fractions, glancing back and forth between individuals to see if their stances had been altered too, when Evie seemed to signify he’d been singled out. For what reason, he certainly had no idea, but he lifted his drink to Ghilio, a nod of two flower diadems melded together on his head. “Thank you,” he uttered in a deep rumble, before returning to the Evergreen’s exclaims with his own stunned shrug of shoulders and disbelief.
