Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The Sword watched, analytical to a fault, waiting for something to snap or sizzle, the spells or enchantments conjured wrong, incorrectly, or sinking metal clinging, clanging to the floor. But instead, the armor performed just as he’d calculated, orchestrated, and measured, shifting as she shifted, curling and contorting over whatever form she embodied. A sigh of relief flickered through his lungs, inaudible and fluid, while he continued to sit and bear witness. It’d hadn’t been a fluke thing, but an additional conflagration to his magic – another machination to store in the back of his mind for future causes and creations. At her reaction though, he lifted his eyes away from feathers or fur or metal, casting them on the bewilderment and wonder, snorting softly. “Glad you like it.” The smile still remaining, curled along the corners of his mouth, mostly just relieved it had been successful and she enjoyed it. Perhaps it would assist in whatever dangerous endeavors she yearned to attempt, in whatever treacherous lapses would occur over this world again and again, in the basking, treacherous unknown. On an arch of his brow, a jocular ministration, the deep rumble of his vocals contorted again, before he took another sip of tea. “Do not leave this one behind.”
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
