DEIMOS
The ceremonial honk left him stupefied and startled for a moment, before a rumble of deep laughter coaxed through the bond, incapable of being stopped. Chuckles of relief, maybe, that they were alive and breathing and not singed into cinders, coals, and embers, not fuel for the fire below. He shook his head thereafter, striving to reel and rein himself back in, to not adorn the moment in ill-fitting humor. Not with so much goading left.The beast tilted his head at the nuances of returning to the inferno. Daring and bold and audacious again, to think they could flicker and linger back through with another chance, another opportunity, fortunate, lucky, and true. Deimos’ prosperity had never been with him long, and something chilled in the fiber of his bones: intuition, most likely, telling him he’d done enough for the day.
But he wouldn’t let the flames scorch anyone, alone.
Fine. And then will you tell me what this place is for? Wings lifting him back up again, into the air, streamlining down, to match and wait for the other eagle, for wind dispositions to align, so they could muster back through the flickering beams, so they could attempt their glory for another round.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
