didn't fall there

DEIMOS

Making their way down the streets, in various avenues of conversation or silence, Deimos took the time to commit his mind and memory to the passing routes. All of them were unfamiliar, and he only recalled the map Sohalia had created for them much too late; too pre-occupied with hordes of other notions and things slinking through his brain.

But as they closed in on where the Flood had to make a delivery, it dawned on him where and what Mother Molly’s happened to be.

Not even remotely interested in its services, his features took on a very nonchalant and reticent state. “I will be over here,” he noted to Sunjata, by a bench, very much away from any and all doors or necessities associated with the facilities.

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything

SUNJATA

the flood

anyway, you say you're too busy
saving everybody else to save yourself

Oh he knows precisely what he’s getting them into – but a part of him thinks that Ru might find it at least a little bit amusing, regardless. Cutting through the paths of people, Sunjata guides Deimos through the paths of the underbelly of Stormbreak, away from the White Hart to the illuminated, illustrious entrance of Mother Molly’s.

He doesn’t expect Deimos to get anywhere near it, though, so as the Sword slips on that mask of essentially a gargoyle, Sunjata nods and flashes a crooked smile, ensuring Petronella is content on his shoulders for a moment before he starts to step in. “Won’t be long.” He calls back, slipping through the entrance with all the confidence the kind of demigod he was suggests he has.

True to his word, though, he’s out within two minutes, arms now free from the package as he steps up to Deimos’ bench, nodding down the path that’ll lead them out of here. “There, all done. You ready to get going?” He asks despite already knowing the answer.

and you don't want no help, oh well
that's the story to tell

DEIMOS

Sunjata wouldn’t have much to tell Ru, considering Deimos stayed rooted to the bench, face impassive, nonchalant, and features buried in his notebook. Gargoyle was probably the exact and honest description, melding into the rest of the world like he’d been stone and earth, vaguely contemplating murder.

Won’t be long meant multitudes, and the Sword intended to time it down so that if Sunjata took his time, he wouldn’t find the Warden here much longer. He could find his own way on air and wings rather than foot, thank you very much –

Except he did reappear in short order, and Deimos permitted a snort to slip through before rising off the bench. “Yes.” Then they could pilfer off and down the respective paths, and he was already mentally crossing off a street he wouldn’t visit again.

[FIN]

think about this
you have the ability to survive anything