Deimos
People would always judge; and Deimos was amongst them, just as much as so many others. Though his assessments and evaluations were usually for the maneuvers within battles or political machinations, Ru’s circumstances notwithstanding, and so he wouldn’t grant any of such critiques to Soleil. “And Halo will always be open to her,” he surmised instead, granting another small half-smile. Her family was embedded here, with Sah and Luka, and multiples congregating into found proportions – tight-knit and capable.
He twisted another round of earth incantations into the assembled rock, feeling it re-align under the weight of his control and command, piercing and piecing back together in sediment and granules. He would’ve concentrated more, had Luka not uttered a statement that had his head tilting again, not unlike a canine or a feline, brow arching. “How do you mean?” A curious rumble, rather than any discord or disagreement, uttering a low snort from his lungs and chest. The Sword rarely compared himself to anyone, and so didn’t draw any similar conclusions.
As for other considerations, to hear Luka was craving some other foothold brought him some pause too. Deimos frequently shaped soldiers and warriors, guild members who sought wisdom and guidance; but his role as Warden meant more than just those occupational ventures, and so he listened, contemplating too. “Depends on what holds your interest. Would you like to defend? Hunt? Track? Construct? Become a scholar? Or something else?” Those weren’t the only options, but perhaps fine-tuning the distinctions, what intrigued the youth, would find more purchase and positioning.
He twisted another round of earth incantations into the assembled rock, feeling it re-align under the weight of his control and command, piercing and piecing back together in sediment and granules. He would’ve concentrated more, had Luka not uttered a statement that had his head tilting again, not unlike a canine or a feline, brow arching. “How do you mean?” A curious rumble, rather than any discord or disagreement, uttering a low snort from his lungs and chest. The Sword rarely compared himself to anyone, and so didn’t draw any similar conclusions.
As for other considerations, to hear Luka was craving some other foothold brought him some pause too. Deimos frequently shaped soldiers and warriors, guild members who sought wisdom and guidance; but his role as Warden meant more than just those occupational ventures, and so he listened, contemplating too. “Depends on what holds your interest. Would you like to defend? Hunt? Track? Construct? Become a scholar? Or something else?” Those weren’t the only options, but perhaps fine-tuning the distinctions, what intrigued the youth, would find more purchase and positioning.
you're all bronze and bite
all venom and fistfight
all venom and fistfight
