death, you bring death and destruction to all that you touch
Some contortion, and a method that had worked in Helovia, permitted him to believe if he ignored Sunjata entirely, then the other man might do the same. Basiners had always known better than to approach him when the more menacing, brooding fixtures were applied, for fear of his malice, his prowess, and anything else potentially harpooned, pierced, and lacerated in between. So he turned toward the counter, made conversation and his requests towards the barkeeper, intending haggling notions to be angled towards creation magic tangents. Then the beast presumed he’d be able to leave without much fuss, and they could all carry on, pretend the brief encounter never happened.
But it was not meant to be, and the long-suffering sigh leaving his chest as soon as Sunjata began talking sealed the inevitable. Perhaps Deimos had lost his intimidating factors, and would need to instill some newfound contempt, wraith, and loathing embedded into his flesh and bones, for the world to back off, depart, and leave him alone for more than a few hours. A portion of him thought about slamming his head against the counter to avoid the impending conversation, or simply leaving, coming back later for the acquired food.
His reticent, indifferent demeanor hadn’t cast the man aside, and he only watched him from the corner of his eyes, a low rumble of a growl beginning to brew through his chest. “Honeymoon,” by way of explanation, and the Sword hadn’t any predilection of allowing it to be ruined by the Flood. Why Sunjata would seek him out though, for anything, after all their trials and tribulations, instigated a singular sentiment of curiosity; though he wagered it wasn’t going to be anything good. “Get on with it then.”
But it was not meant to be, and the long-suffering sigh leaving his chest as soon as Sunjata began talking sealed the inevitable. Perhaps Deimos had lost his intimidating factors, and would need to instill some newfound contempt, wraith, and loathing embedded into his flesh and bones, for the world to back off, depart, and leave him alone for more than a few hours. A portion of him thought about slamming his head against the counter to avoid the impending conversation, or simply leaving, coming back later for the acquired food.
His reticent, indifferent demeanor hadn’t cast the man aside, and he only watched him from the corner of his eyes, a low rumble of a growl beginning to brew through his chest. “Honeymoon,” by way of explanation, and the Sword hadn’t any predilection of allowing it to be ruined by the Flood. Why Sunjata would seek him out though, for anything, after all their trials and tribulations, instigated a singular sentiment of curiosity; though he wagered it wasn’t going to be anything good. “Get on with it then.”
DEIMOS
