DEIMOS
what tried to destroy you
didn't have the strength
didn't have the strength
Remaining where he stood, Deimos watched as the stranger leaned in closer for inspection and scrutiny. He wasn’t the first to be openly curious about Belial; it seemed perytons were not commonly spotted amongst the world – but given their tendencies for blending amongst their surroundings, it made sense. The aforementioned beast gave a little show (the Sword fought away an eye roll) as attention was solely upon him – wings unfurling again, moving back and forth so that the other man might see him from all angles; black hide and feathers. The inquiry did manage to generate a snort from the Sword. “Only if you can shift into smaller prey.” If this earned a glare from his companion, the hybrid ignored it entirely.
And still the name didn’t bring forth any recognition, though the land did. All he knew of Stormbreak were portions and pieces from others; notably Seren and her predilections towards its ancient sanction (and their inclinations towards Abandoned as a whole). Or the foundations of the Order; which still chafed somewhere down the notches of his spine. Cautious still, careful, controlled, ever the air of composure while his mind worked and contorted.
The last statement caused the lightest tilt of his head, a brief narrowing of his eyes – uncertain what the meaning was intended to signify. But he’d return the gesture of namesakes with his low rumble once more, some modicum of respect for priests aligned with the Old Gods. “Deimos Ignatius.” Once there would’ve been something else besides the name – a proud General of either Halo or the Hollowed Grounds. Now there was nothing attached. There were enough scars to fill in the gaps and lines within. “And how do you find the Wilds?” Given the spoken parameters of stone walls and devices meant to ward away the rest of the world, the untamed expanse must’ve been somewhat of a surprise.
And still the name didn’t bring forth any recognition, though the land did. All he knew of Stormbreak were portions and pieces from others; notably Seren and her predilections towards its ancient sanction (and their inclinations towards Abandoned as a whole). Or the foundations of the Order; which still chafed somewhere down the notches of his spine. Cautious still, careful, controlled, ever the air of composure while his mind worked and contorted.
The last statement caused the lightest tilt of his head, a brief narrowing of his eyes – uncertain what the meaning was intended to signify. But he’d return the gesture of namesakes with his low rumble once more, some modicum of respect for priests aligned with the Old Gods. “Deimos Ignatius.” Once there would’ve been something else besides the name – a proud General of either Halo or the Hollowed Grounds. Now there was nothing attached. There were enough scars to fill in the gaps and lines within. “And how do you find the Wilds?” Given the spoken parameters of stone walls and devices meant to ward away the rest of the world, the untamed expanse must’ve been somewhat of a surprise.
still you stand
sturdy and smelling of smoke
sturdy and smelling of smoke
