DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
Deimos had lived too many lives, and been thrown into too many wars, bloodshed, miseries, and melancholies, to not gauge proportions of the world as perils, hazards, and ominous possibilities. Without the angles of battles and crusades, there’d still been sicknesses, plagues, monsters, and other multitudes of mayhem – so he always looked upon the lands with a skeptical, discerning, examining eye. Maybe when he was younger, below a teenager, he would’ve been able to shrug off the masses as Seren did; unbothered and indifferent, until it came to his own home.
And then he’d changed entirely.
The sketch was approved, and he made some additional notes at the bottom for variances on hues and color, and then pocketed it, folding it neatly into the hollowed out denizens of his coat. He nodded, content with the knowledge and sagacity of one more being. "Thank you for the information. I can show the Monster Hunter Guild leader." Belial had already begun to incline himself further, towards Seren’s outline in the snow, and a low growl conformed to the Sword’s chest – innate and inward, for the companion alone. The deer managed to look sheepish once more, before beating his wings and simply staring.
That he’d emerged into the ridiculousness of a false story and a juvenile joke stoked the remains of his smile back to fruition; and he had a choice of either elaborating on the tall tale or leaving it for a mystery. He chose the latter, deliberately tilting his head in a Cheshire gesture; far more feline in the moment. “It is something you will have to learn and see for yourself.”
And then he’d changed entirely.
The sketch was approved, and he made some additional notes at the bottom for variances on hues and color, and then pocketed it, folding it neatly into the hollowed out denizens of his coat. He nodded, content with the knowledge and sagacity of one more being. "Thank you for the information. I can show the Monster Hunter Guild leader." Belial had already begun to incline himself further, towards Seren’s outline in the snow, and a low growl conformed to the Sword’s chest – innate and inward, for the companion alone. The deer managed to look sheepish once more, before beating his wings and simply staring.
That he’d emerged into the ridiculousness of a false story and a juvenile joke stoked the remains of his smile back to fruition; and he had a choice of either elaborating on the tall tale or leaving it for a mystery. He chose the latter, deliberately tilting his head in a Cheshire gesture; far more feline in the moment. “It is something you will have to learn and see for yourself.”
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
