DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Despite prior antics and intended irritation, meant to rankle, meant to provoke, the Sword had no such designs or forethought now. And though he was nowhere near innocent, the invitations had been prompted and extended on assurances of connections and bonds. Chulane would know exactly where he stood with Deimos anyway. The man had helped save his life. So there were no traps, no snares, no pitfalls laid out for either figure as he heard the knock and opened the door, a small smile tucked in the corner of his mouth – extending his hand in one grand show into the threshold. The apartments weren’t much, save for shelter and more places for armaments, or a collection of artifacts he held dear. “Come on in,” he declared, before shutting the aperture behind them, permitting them to access the kitchen or wherever they craved. If his glance noted bite marks, he said nothing. It’d been presumed long beforehand anyway. His hands were out, offering to take bottles and food.
Zuriel managed to provide her own form of greeting, rising from the hearth, nares widening, instantly attentive to both ningo farmer and Harpy. The former for all his efforts with the Sword, remembered, recalled treats, and the aroma of apples, and the Harpy for her bond with Deimos. So she ambled forward, noble and dignified, pressing her muzzle into Chulane’s arm, immediately insistent.
Unite and spread the heart apart
