Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place The Reaper failed to become a taut, brutal force the moment he sensed another was nearby; Rexanna’s presence was familiar, comfortable, and he didn’t have to shove up a thousand walls or unattainable outreaches. It was balming and calming, and without having to draw his guard up, he could continue his actions without too many explanations or absurdities. His piercing eyes slated over to hers, turning his head a little to regard her, before administering his attention back to the wares he’d laid against the perch. “Perhaps,” he hinted, a ghost of a smile nestled in the corner of his lips. “Curiosity compelled me.” After all, he’d seen dragons loom over Isilme, companions to those chosen and blessed, and some potent, powerful legendary beings sailing between heaven, earth, and hell. He’d seen monsters spiral out of the denizens of the earth and cast their invocations, their malice, their menace. He’d seen warriors rise from their graves and ride out towards one last victory. The thought of a gigantic bird with embers and flames in its tresses didn’t sound like the most ridiculous thing; but once he started seeing anything and everything, he wanted to see it all.
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Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary