DEIMOS
Deimos released him once the summoner acknowledged he was fine, a subtle, strained breath unfurling from his lungs (relief?). His descent continued, spiraling slowly, despite the lack of weight within his talons. Even with the notion that Loren wasn’t completely ailing, the groggy, hazy, anguished response didn’t seem fine; but they both managed to reach land in less distress. Deimos shrugged away the pecking, figured it was likely something he was owed after the bludgeoning, the miniscule wounds would heal eventually on their own, or he could speed them along on returning home with Zuriel’s benedictions. His talons, lower limbs bleeding slightly, clicked along the surface of cobblestones, watching, surveying, and wondering if that was simply it – if he was to go his own way once more, back to wandering in those vague, bizarre circumstances."who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
