DEIMOS
Maybe luck wouldn’t be needed – but certainly some tactful skill. Grasping the bottle in his talons, along with the stopper, the eagle soared. Quicker, faster, swifter in this form, for it was much smaller than its thunderbird counterpart, the comfort and ease with which he drew in amongst the air was palpable. Twisting, turning, descending, flickering in and amongst the dry winds, gave him such a resolute disposition that the freedom pressed between folds of wings and feathers, contentment, even in the dismal heat, thrived. Even without Attuned measures and bonds, the courier should’ve been able to see it.
The liberation stoked while he moved, and the Sword presumed the breeze did the same within the glass. Taking a few more rounds within the drafts and currents, for amusement and ensuring there’d be enough for Tal’s quest, the more difficult portion came into play. Hovering for a moment, adjusting his wingspan accordingly, the raptor shifted so that he might be able to see his talons; and while his dexterity certainly wasn’t going to be the best under these circumstances, his control and precision were nearly always on par.
There were some instances of fumbling and contorting, but one or two tries he got there, and the top was enclosed, albeit probably not as securely as either of them would’ve liked, he arched, then plunged – ceasing only when he came within a foot of the Accepted, holding the artifact outwards for him to grab.
"who's gonna let you?"
they asked. i said
"who's gonna stop me?"
