who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Sword furrowed his brows as the wall creaked, but nothing came from it. No toppling. No fumbling. No destruction. He snorted at the insinuation that his magic hadn’t been enough, and might’ve gone on standing and staring at it, waiting for the wood to fall under his piercing, puncturing glare, had Noah not arrived.
The barest bones of amusement poked through at the excuse, and he eventually laughed too – following on the hunter’s insinuations, and grabbing hold of another sledgehammer. Deimos was used to the formation of his swords, to bows, to staffs; but he twirled it a few times in the length of his hand, understood, enjoyed the imposition, the damage, it could easily convey.
Then he angled towards the wall once more, watching Noah assault and siege, and aimed to do the same – lifting the hammer over his head, and with might, brawn, and strength, ensued a volley and barrage into the wood.
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Deimos uses a sledgehammer to try and help destroy the wall.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
