Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
“Perhaps,” he mentioned, attention drawn to the movements around the scene. Watching, waiting, speculating as to what they’d do – and how best to aid them later, when there would be discussions and discourse around their attempts. For now, it would be best to see how they did in the environment without his support or aid, so he tilted his head, a study in parallels and unyielding, unbending fragments.There was movement around the bottom of the stall the parrot sat upon. Subtle, but nuanced; layers of cloth maneuvering, and not by the wind. Someone hidden, tucked underneath a veil of incantations? The bird had seen it however, eyes widening for a moment, and it crept over to the middle of the kiosk, eerily silent. The Sword’s eyes narrowed, before extending a whisper to the stranger. “A lookout?” Capable of sending out a warning to another Attuned nearby?
And suddenly there was another motion nearby – a whirlwind of earth rumbling beside the bench, and a mole popped out from the nearly frozen landscape, morphing into a human form soon thereafter – recognizable as one of the four hiding from before. The woman placed her hand on the artifact, before sitting down, quite smug, while the General gave a distinct rumble of laughter. “Better than I thought,” he mentioned to both nearby, but thereafter, he stuck his hand out towards the other individual watching. “Deimos,” by way of introductions. “You are welcome to join the next round,” by way of some teasing enterprise, the smile angled in the corner of his mouth.
