[SE] wood you believe it

The hellhound shift had been a gift, a boon, and a touch of familiarity into chaos, contortion, and power through Attuned coordinations. He’d always had it in magic; but the capability of altering into something equally potent, covering more ground, alleviating threats in a different way, had been appealing. It gave him an amount of liberation and freedom in compelling form, and he took to the ruthless appeal with ease – no need to be lured or compelled.

Iskra’s familiarity with the domicile’s owners didn’t surprise him – trackers were necessary, vital, and the community supported them just as much as everyone else. He answered with a gruff bark and a hound smile, shaking his head idly as he snagged at the line again and they could continue down the lane – keeping the ideas of a wood pile stacking contest in his mind, but granting a snort, figuring the lumberjack would win decisively.

Around the corner from the bakery was a smaller threshold owned by one of the many butchers, and he stopped there too, slowing down deliberately so Iskra would have time to catch up through flame-laden paths and icy shoals. Taking the notions in stride, as Deimos snagged at several more portions of timber within his jaws, he arranged them neatly upon depositing them alongside the building, not as nicely piled as hands would’ve easily done, but enough to convey his amusement.

Deimos

we're all killers

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ISKRA

Feeling like he's working alongside an improved version of Goose, Iskra considers, for the first time, that perhaps he should ask the gods for help making their bond something more. He thought maybe it'd come with time, or maybe he cares for the dog more than is returned, which is why it never happened. This fear he's put to bed many times, although with so many sporting companions, it does make him wonder sometimes. Although he has never felt like they've missed out on anything because of it, it would be nice to have a better channel of communication with the dog. More than anything, and what will ultimately make Iskra do it, is the improved lifespan for his best friend.

Deimos is not Goose thoiugh, and the comparison doesn't stretch much further than four legs and his overall shape. Still, Iskra amuses himself a little with the idea of Goose being supercharged, and then promptly remembers how difficult the ordinary dog already is and swiftly decides better of it.

"Oh, the butcher," Iskra appraises as he stops, Deimos already at work stacking wood. "Know him too," he says idly as he stacks more firewood in his arms and shifts it around to join the offering pile for the man. "Or I should say, Goose knows him." Iskra grins, recalling several times the butcher has offered up choice cuts or bones in passing. "A good man," Iskra declares as he he gets his sled back in hand. "I got enough for one more stop then I'm out," he informs Deimos, his sled becoming wonderfully lighter.

Chopping my wood, but this tree’s too hard
Chopping my wood, my axe isn’t sharp
Chopping my wood, split through the heart and it tears me apart

Deimos unfurled a snort at the notions of Goose knowing the butcher well; it wouldn’t surprise him with the affinity for animals, meat, and bones; if Belial weren’t so obnoxious he might’ve been able to snag some extra portions for himself. His gaze flickered upwards and around the domicile, before nodding at Iskra’s sentiments, grabbing hold of the string and carrying on down the lane.

Though his sled was noticeably lighter too, it still held a decent amount. He’d be able to contort down another road, drop off portions, and still have some left for the shelter and anyone else who might require the necessary precautions and bulk. Unfurling another bark to demonstrate his understanding, and with a flick of his tail, they could saunter along a lane that held many a threshold of foods and aromas intermingled – from savory dishes to baked items. More than once he lifted his nose to the air on the enticements, but managed to keep himself contained – multitudes moved out of the way once they saw Deimos rumbling through, stepping onto sidewalks and either waving or nodding as they passed.

With the path cleared, the Sword directed his attention towards a large bakery along the block, dragging the sled towards the property. On another rumble, he dropped the line and began following through on the same pattern, gathering the piles of wood in his teeth.

Deimos

we're all killers

generated with adobe firefly