Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Between the sudden smugness, the dragon’s echoing chortle, and the potential for Ru to be terrorized, Deimos’ facial expressions rendered into widened eyes, Cheshire grins, and a multitude of laughter. It echoed and bounded with ease, sliding off frigid air, filling the wind with something other than its howls. Ensuring Zuriel was settled and fine, his gaze flickered upwards to the pouting Belial, then gave another aloof shrug. To hear the inquiry from Talyson surprised him, but perhaps that was because the Sword had been used to receiving lectures from Naturals for years now. He didn’t expect to have to give information to any of them about the deities; but given locations, occupations, and series of events that cascaded and rippled through, perhaps these bits of recollections simply didn’t fit. He gave no judgment though, his voice reduced to its rumble again. “She is the seasonal goddess of Leafchange, now residing back in the Greatwood.” Who apparently didn’t mind munching on people.
The other press and guess of divine beings followed too. “Supposedly it wanted to help plant things in the desert, but now it is stuck there.” Ludo, with its own brand of distinctions, seemed to set the courier all the more in apprehension. “Perhaps. Though it is one thing we cannot avoid.” Death – and all the times they’d faced it.
