look upon a ruin

Deimos With the roar of the Stonesong behind him, out of sight, out of mind, his attention remained on the depths of leaves and fathoms of shadows instead. The particular frond he was looking for had to be around the middling contortion of wither and decay, perhaps half assembled in green, while the other had already been touched and scorched by demands of death. He hadn’t even given it a second thought as to others wandering the grounds, used to partaking into the woods on his lonesome without a care, without a rhyme, without a reason – so deliberately intertwined and honed in on his search, that he failed to notice the blending of another in the notches of trees. Zuriel had though. Her head shot up from where it’d been pushing past thorns and nettles, nares widening in a similar quest for the Shield, puncturing gaze segmenting, striving to pinpoint where she’d heard earthen nuances, noises, sounds, too soft, too delicate, perhaps for the Sword’s senses. A snort of warning and alarm traced through her motions, and only then did Deimos turn his attention towards her, tilting his head a fraction, curiosity and concern lacing through the silence. Her cranium inclined forward, a toss of her regal crown, to which he followed, and his own gaze was suddenly upon another’s: brown and unfamiliar, as if they were meant to be furtive, secretive, in their camouflage and distinction. Bewildered, surprised, and a little irritated that he’d been caught so easily, his jaw clenched, his heart beat between ribs and chambers, and his brow furrowed. But on what to otherwise do or say, he was entirely lost. The youth didn’t appear threatening (it would’ve been simple to unwind magic and contortions, pummel and blast away at a supposed enemy). “Who are you?” He settled for a different strategy and method to the foretold madness. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime