Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Shared mischief and devilry was only encouragement for the Sword – who, when comfortable and at ease, often resorted to impishness. The grin remained, even as Tal’s glance seemed wary, perturbed, and flickered back to some residual juvenility – all the prompting the General required. “Snowballs are always nearby. I used the spa mud on her once. Makes a mess.” The residual snicker coincided with another low chuckle, enough to make Zuriel snort from the boulder she was inspecting.Deimos had only inquired on the deity situation due to incoming matters, but kept the notions brief and concise, never pushing, never prodding. Sometimes they were apprehensive matters – and those he could understand a bit better than most. Other moments were scattered in neutrality or indifference. And there were still more that were justified irritations. He carefully walked around the snowy and starry image of Safrin, nearing Zuriel to offer a pat and to check on his saddlebags.
“I have heard some things about the Eirachi, and Neron’s actions did not help.” A snort followed, tightening one of the straps on his satchels, and then giving the unicorn a treat as a result of her patience. He surveyed the younger man’s scowl, brow arching, as he mentioned others. “Tanau seems all right as well.” Though he couldn’t think of a reason to request the seasonal deity’s assistance – not when he held his own pinnacles of fire. Fighting off the leviathan towards the end of the sickness had put a damper on wandering towards the Falls at all; and the Climb always held a certain air of other nefarious tales. “The Mathair threatened to eat me once." He mentioned off-handedly, as if this was a normal. "There is also the one in the desert. Have you gone to aid it yet? And Ludo?” He suggested, by way of a shrug.
