DEIMOS
The refusal of the bees surprised him, and he wondered if it was simply because they didn’t want to make this a permanent residence. There were other machinations, multitudes, and motions to consider, to weigh, and while they could instill and root in here, that wasn’t the design. Perhaps he’d overreached on the notions then – and so he shrugged his shoulders, dismissing it as readily as Cordelia had.His movements were swift and keen, long limbs and strides working their way through the fields, watching as Belial foolishly concocted a whole streamline of motions – occasionally launching, leaping, or striving to snag at the flowers in the Sword’s grasp, before being knocked away with a well-timed blast of air.
By the time they’d arrived back the peryton trumpeted a series of noises to alert Zuriel of their presence (the mare seemed mildly disappointed). She raised her head from her grazing spot, conducted a brief inspection that none of them had been harmed, then went right back to the long grass. Deimos snorted, instilled a silent promise, and then followed after Cordelia’s instructions. He eyed the side of the house, head tilting, pondering, as he unfurled the vines once more, layering them piece by piece. “Is that better for them?”
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
