Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
Healing; as if nothing were deterred, ruffled, or bothered. There were a few moments where he wondered at the novelty of it; if the mending, soothing efforts wasted some portion of endurance too, if Loren should’ve saved it for later, later, later, when the skirmish was over, or if he’d never felt the pull of exhaustion and fatigue of too much. The Sword knew the pulse, understood its depths when he’d been slowly withering away in the Spire, exhausted and blown apart.
Deimos missed the potency of the deadly enchantments from Helovia, the lengths and damage it could cause; grateful for all of it embroiled in his form, but still greedy, avaricious enough, for the opportunities of devastation and malice. That wasn’t here or there, truly, now; Loren wasn’t an adversary, but a comrade, fellow man at arms, testing out abilities – where they were, how far they had to go.
The unicorn’s appearance wasn’t wholly unexpected; though he didn’t have a chance to turn a mocking eye towards Zuriel – he could feel her disdain from yards away. A swift charge, head bowed, the horn upon its brow like a sword, apparent laceration in order – but Deimos was entirely aware of their capabilities, of their speed, of their precision, and had no intention of permitting his frame to take such a hit.
So he shifted abruptly, wings and plumage – the unicorn might’ve gotten a swipe at tail feathers, tawny and sienna bombardments, but otherwise remained out of harm’s way due to flight and machinations. Sharp and keen, his intentions were to swiftly plummet behind Loren, then return to his regular figure. Broad and sturdy, he settled upon the ground, and reached for the next assemblage of incantations, the sizzle of fire, last utilized to take the entire Monster Hunter’s Guild down, monsters and everything else within. It was a crackle on his palms, a sizzle in his hands, a choking, rapacious conflagration, attempts unfurling towards the summoner, and several other embers emblazoned in the unicorn’s direction. Somewhere in their connection, Zuriel sneered.
Deimos missed the potency of the deadly enchantments from Helovia, the lengths and damage it could cause; grateful for all of it embroiled in his form, but still greedy, avaricious enough, for the opportunities of devastation and malice. That wasn’t here or there, truly, now; Loren wasn’t an adversary, but a comrade, fellow man at arms, testing out abilities – where they were, how far they had to go.
The unicorn’s appearance wasn’t wholly unexpected; though he didn’t have a chance to turn a mocking eye towards Zuriel – he could feel her disdain from yards away. A swift charge, head bowed, the horn upon its brow like a sword, apparent laceration in order – but Deimos was entirely aware of their capabilities, of their speed, of their precision, and had no intention of permitting his frame to take such a hit.
So he shifted abruptly, wings and plumage – the unicorn might’ve gotten a swipe at tail feathers, tawny and sienna bombardments, but otherwise remained out of harm’s way due to flight and machinations. Sharp and keen, his intentions were to swiftly plummet behind Loren, then return to his regular figure. Broad and sturdy, he settled upon the ground, and reached for the next assemblage of incantations, the sizzle of fire, last utilized to take the entire Monster Hunter’s Guild down, monsters and everything else within. It was a crackle on his palms, a sizzle in his hands, a choking, rapacious conflagration, attempts unfurling towards the summoner, and several other embers emblazoned in the unicorn’s direction. Somewhere in their connection, Zuriel sneered.
DEIMOS
