DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
It’d been a long time since anyone had stammered in his presence. Most knew who he was simply by maneuvers and actions around the populace, and were likely no longer intimidated by his presence, despite all the potential for ruin, wreckage, and havoc. In another time, in another world, the beast would’ve been content with a dragooning, menacing, malicious upheaval to his stature, becoming just one more ominous, foreboding existence preying upon the masses. Here though, he was merely General and Guildmaster and Sword; tilting his head, waiting for the nuances, inclinations, and phrasing to cease so he could parse through it. The stranger was Libbs – small, with tools, and his eyes ran over the aforementioned device, recognizing it for less-than-modern designs, some harder edges and rudimentary models somewhere along walls and merchants of trade. They’d once been cultivated and utilized for pieces of armor, though some jewelers had proclaimed smaller, more intricate ones. “Deimos,” by way of introduction fell from his rumbling abyss, and a nod, recalling the rest of her squeaks and information kindled somewhere between nerves, tensions, and apprehension. Uncertain of how he could convey he wasn’t about to maul her, he simply adhered to her inquiries. “A screwdriver?” Uncertain of any other connotation, title, or namesake it might hold, he maneuvered backwards, inclining on a set of motions, long strides already promising sweeping turns along kiosks and stalls, a twist of his head indicating she should follow. “We have some assembled on this side of the hall.”
Unite and spread the heart apart
