Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
And there the consequences were. With a sharp yip, either in surprise or pain (potentially both) the peryton stared in abject dismay at what his actions had presided. The slap stunned him entirely, mostly because his bonded had never used violence on him nor had anyone else bothered, dared. His eyes widened, and then he seemed to visibly wilt within the skies, drifting lower. Deimos couldn’t tell if he was pouting or plotting; but likely some proportions of the same emotions finagling through. “Well, that will teach him something.” He shook his head again, another warning instilled somewhere in the bounds of their connection, before allowing his attention to wander back to Tal’s sudden bout of inquiries.He hadn’t realized he’d opened another unleashing of questions and appeals, and he stood still for a moment, blinking, fathoming how to address them all. “Apparently. I was not there, but there was a battle for it between the Ascended and demigods.” As for the notions of Safrin, his brow arched slightly. “Yes. Many times. She attuned me.” Then he began to march onward, long limbs trekking easily over the bounds of snow.
But with the other notions, he tilted his head again. “I have not heard many of those. How does it go?”
