DEIMOS
Deimos had been well experienced in gutting deer; it’d been a main staple of several lands he’d occupied throughout his lives. He presumed it wouldn’t be much different upon a massive bear, but watched, scrutinized, and witnessed Noah’s prowess with the knife anyway, intending to follow suit with the other ursur. The hunter was quick, fast, and efficient, taking apart the unnecessary portions, slashing at sinew and fat, tissue and flesh. So the monolith followed suit, wandering back to the other, larger carcass, and proceeding to follow through in the same steps – the residual patterns still in place, curved along the hilt of his dagger, in the calloused weight of his palms. More blood to be spilt across the snow.He listened all the while, narrowing his gaze to stare at the confines of the carcass as Noah spoke. “No.” There’d been no need to travel to Halo to maul and maim one of the fierce animals, they’d had their own repertoire of flora and fauna to gather and take home, to feed the countryside. The semblance of the legends drew him in, if only for curiosity’s sake, muffling a snort. He’d only ever relied on his own strength, his own regard, his own bearing, but wasn’t about to handwave off a part of this world’s culture, a segment of traditions. It’d be a very Outlander thing to do – and he’d usually done his best to adapt. He rendered his inquiry in a neutral tone, pondering while he worked. “Did you complete this act?”
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
