Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He snorted, eyes darting briefly to Boreal by way of apology, but meaning the previous statement just as well. “Companions are one thing,” though his natural ease of distaste could always be given to Loki – wondering if it was due to the dragon’s antics or its bonded. Probably both. “The full-grown ones another matter.” Or the snagged shifts from Voice-affiliated attuned individuals, which made him nearly growl. Keeping it smothered down in his lungs, he finished plaiting the ends of Zuriel’s forelock, to which she snorted, easing her muzzle along his shoulder. At the statement though, his eyes rounded back over to the courier, and then the smallest bit of laughter followed. “Many.” Unfortunately, though the experiences gave him the platitude and endurance of a man who’d seen many monsters, lived to tell the tales, and be incredibly nonchalant about it all. “I saved Zuriel from one and nearly lost my arm for it,” tilting his head vaguely back to the unicorn – who managed to look imperious and defiant even though the story was true. “Another set attacked a luxere,” which they hadn’t managed to save – and the small demonic being becoming Amun’s companion. “And they are common in the desert. Ru and I snagged one for their hide.” Easy enough to pick apart the ground and unearth them from the sands amidst that region, not so much in the Grounds.
