DEIMOS
the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times
for I have burned too many times
It took him half a moment to register his name called across the stones – an adjustment of piercing eyes and puncturing gazes, before landing solely on the newest Ascended recruit. An arch of his brow was the only other movement on his features; otherwise, they were an impassive decree, manifesting in the upcoming surge of energy. A challenge. A provocation. A time to learn. A time to build. A time to prosper.
For Deimos never lingered in the aptitude of lethargy or stagnancy. Eternally devoted to an education of the mind, of the body, of the blade, scholarly intuition melded, molded, sculpted, carved, into a form of prowess, might, and ambition. And he’d assist the same with anyone who yearned for the same – for protection, for guidance, for support, for defending, for becoming better.
“Elide,” he responded, enough to ensure the skirmish was on, accepted. The rest of the guards backed away, taking places along the sides, granting and giving room to the upcoming measures and motives. He knew she was eager, hungry, fast, and swift; and he didn’t underestimate her abilities, no matter how fresh or new to the scene.
Her sword clashed against his, and he held it, contemplated, considered, and weighed his options. His strength and brawn would always be a piece of movements and motions – but he’d been intending to work on his dexterity. Especially against one like an Ascended, who maneuvered far better in the realm of the evening –
So why not become a thorn in those scopes now? She had an advantage in not being capable of feeling pain either; but with those notions came some air of audacity – because when did one know to cease and desist?
The monolith countered by motioning to the left, and attempted to angle the swing of his armaments into a slashing array towards her legs. To scatter. To irritate. To annoy. To hasten her away, where he could continue charging.
For Deimos never lingered in the aptitude of lethargy or stagnancy. Eternally devoted to an education of the mind, of the body, of the blade, scholarly intuition melded, molded, sculpted, carved, into a form of prowess, might, and ambition. And he’d assist the same with anyone who yearned for the same – for protection, for guidance, for support, for defending, for becoming better.
“Elide,” he responded, enough to ensure the skirmish was on, accepted. The rest of the guards backed away, taking places along the sides, granting and giving room to the upcoming measures and motives. He knew she was eager, hungry, fast, and swift; and he didn’t underestimate her abilities, no matter how fresh or new to the scene.
Her sword clashed against his, and he held it, contemplated, considered, and weighed his options. His strength and brawn would always be a piece of movements and motions – but he’d been intending to work on his dexterity. Especially against one like an Ascended, who maneuvered far better in the realm of the evening –
So why not become a thorn in those scopes now? She had an advantage in not being capable of feeling pain either; but with those notions came some air of audacity – because when did one know to cease and desist?
The monolith countered by motioning to the left, and attempted to angle the swing of his armaments into a slashing array towards her legs. To scatter. To irritate. To annoy. To hasten her away, where he could continue charging.
the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life
for I have been drowning all my life
