Deimos
Out of the way of the incoming sleds, he hastened back towards the sidelines, eyes cast to watch them disperse and wander along the slope. He’d intended for joy, for amusements, for exhilaration, before anything else came toppling down, before the world fell apart at their feet again. At the wild exclamations and hollers, he presumed it’d been successful – smiling enough as they sharpened and harpooned down the landscape to dimple his grin.
Figuring on going again, he rounded towards the incline, when something splattered against the back of his neck. It was a shock to his senses, as the snow melted, trickled down furs and across any exposed skin, mustering a shake of his head, gloved hands going towards peeling away whatever remained.
Then, of course, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion, an arch to the brow, an uncanny, piercing juncture to his gaze, pinpointing and angling his vengeful leer towards onlookers, the crowd behind him.
And there was Elide, apparently attempting to be the picture of innocence.
Whether she was guilty or not, the association alone caused him to snort. Retaliation in order, the beast conjured his own method of reprisal and retribution. The magic welled and quelled within him, content and dastardly to abide his demands, and the pulsing manifestations of his incantations began to manifest once again: a massive snowball, building, brimming, as it began to levitate in rapid fashion.
And then it was hurled towards the Ascended, with a merciless grin.
Thereafter, not waiting to see the end result, he rushed back towards the slope, long sweeping strides not hiding his trail of laughter.
Figuring on going again, he rounded towards the incline, when something splattered against the back of his neck. It was a shock to his senses, as the snow melted, trickled down furs and across any exposed skin, mustering a shake of his head, gloved hands going towards peeling away whatever remained.
Then, of course, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion, an arch to the brow, an uncanny, piercing juncture to his gaze, pinpointing and angling his vengeful leer towards onlookers, the crowd behind him.
And there was Elide, apparently attempting to be the picture of innocence.
Whether she was guilty or not, the association alone caused him to snort. Retaliation in order, the beast conjured his own method of reprisal and retribution. The magic welled and quelled within him, content and dastardly to abide his demands, and the pulsing manifestations of his incantations began to manifest once again: a massive snowball, building, brimming, as it began to levitate in rapid fashion.
And then it was hurled towards the Ascended, with a merciless grin.
Thereafter, not waiting to see the end result, he rushed back towards the slope, long sweeping strides not hiding his trail of laughter.
i rule the stars, not the other way around
