DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Despite being the Guildmaster, Deimos had been pulled into so many altering, caustic, chaotic directions, that he wasn’t frequently around its domicile, its inhabitants. The hall was open to anyone and everyone, but to see him come and go was a bit of a rarity at present, biding his time between here, the militia barracks, the infirmary with Amalia, and anywhere else in between. The only reason he threaded his way through stalls and kiosks now was to grab hold of a particular tool, furrowing his brows, irritated he hadn’t found it, pondering if he should just make another one and carry on – intending to mend some portion of future movements and motions for the Shield. Eventually, he’d snagged at the implement, chasing it down to another grounder’s merchandise, asking to borrow or wield, trading the slightest of wiles, the long-suffering sighs in exchange; before hastening down the lanes. His form cut through several layers of inhabitants just by its sheer size, Colossus doing naught more than walking with obvious purpose, until he spotted someone unfamiliar. She seemed caught in the crosshairs of everything – too much to see, too much to do, an overwhelming notion. Ordinarily, he might not have bothered, especially as she slunk towards other portions of the workshop, but if he was supposed to be the leader of this area too…
A rumination, a sentiment, close to irritation twisted in his gut, and he eased the breath he was holding. “Are you looking for something?” Maybe he could assist, direct, and then be on his way.
Unite and spread the heart apart
