DEIMOS
Had he pushed back at the motion, Cordelia might have been knocked askew; so the Sword took the hit as his monolithic figure would allow, rolling his eyes as she strolled by. His gaze continued to consider the grounds they walked upon – the sprawling fields, unlike the endless varnish of snow and ice, given way to the tides and vestiges of spring. Belial tromped ahead, running around Cordelia in various circles as she examined the flowers, picking at a few leaves before making a face and dropping them – still carnivorous to a fault.At her voice and inspection though, the soldier tilted his head. He nearly asked if the petals and hues had a purpose, but then remembered not everything had to encompass a dual design. They could be ornamental, provide for bees, and be enough. He closed his mouth around the inquiry, solidifying a nod, he supposed, at the indication of colors and mixtures. “They will work,” and since tulips didn’t haunt him in the way other flowers did, he snagged at his magic, pulling them upright, from the ground, until they were bundled tightly in the air, roots and all. A way to replant them without haphazard wakes. “Do you want any others?”
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
