DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
With Hotaru content with her own wiles and Deimos not wanting to be accused of being an overbearing, hovering monolith, the General snagged the opportunity and invitation Aisha bestowed all in due time – the pieces firmly in place for testing out his venomous theories. If he was right…he’d probably be smug, and intend to claim the insight and information in her journals for the guild (credit to Deimos inscribed below), and if he was wrong, he could shrug his shoulders and they could hunt more of them down. A win, truly.
So he came with weapons tucked along his person, blade on his belt, other supplies within his bag of holding placed on his shoulder. Belial swept along the outskirts of the jungle as if it were his newest playground, another set of eyes and ears when the peryton wasn’t fully distracted. Zuriel came right along behind, her features rendered completely indifferent and unimpressed as a whole.
By the time he’d drawn alongside Aisha, the Sword had stripped down to his thinner garments too, long hair tied back and off his neck, wrinkling his nose at the humid, oppressive air. It was nothing like the coolness of the sea breeze, or the frigid, glacial aspects of Halo. Maybe they’d spent too long in the chilling depths – but he didn’t particularly care for this weather. Regardless, his head tilted at Aisha’s inquiry, staring into the trails and figments of fronds, ferns, and vines. “Whatever we can find. Something small?” Poison might act faster in a tinier frame. A mouse. A bird.
So he came with weapons tucked along his person, blade on his belt, other supplies within his bag of holding placed on his shoulder. Belial swept along the outskirts of the jungle as if it were his newest playground, another set of eyes and ears when the peryton wasn’t fully distracted. Zuriel came right along behind, her features rendered completely indifferent and unimpressed as a whole.
By the time he’d drawn alongside Aisha, the Sword had stripped down to his thinner garments too, long hair tied back and off his neck, wrinkling his nose at the humid, oppressive air. It was nothing like the coolness of the sea breeze, or the frigid, glacial aspects of Halo. Maybe they’d spent too long in the chilling depths – but he didn’t particularly care for this weather. Regardless, his head tilted at Aisha’s inquiry, staring into the trails and figments of fronds, ferns, and vines. “Whatever we can find. Something small?” Poison might act faster in a tinier frame. A mouse. A bird.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
