this is the reckoning
“Depends,” he mustered with another grin, cheeky and juvenile, before an indistinct roll of his shoulders. If one was strong enough, capable enough, there were certainties more than risks; but Deimos still didn’t take the potentials for granted. Too many instances with ursurs, with dragons, with other roaming beasts, had ensured wisdom permitted, persisted, and rang through with modicums of wiles and might.
The acceptance of a swift nature was really all he needed anyway – the Cheshire glint along his mouth was probably the best served warning for impending actions. “Best hang on then,” and Belial chirped, excited perhaps, for the upcoming motions. Steering the sled away from the overhang of the Climb, and fully back out into the snow, he took one long inhalation of air, and shifted, changed, altered entirely.
Hound nature prevailed within an instant later – massive, powerful, and potent, paws pressed into the ice, into the rime, into the tracings of tracks and behemoths. Stygian and obsidian fur coaxed and enticed at the ferocity of the wind, but even it couldn’t haunt and loom; no sooner had he stretched his limbs defiantly into the wake of the earth again, did he grasp the rope with his teeth. No harness. No trappings. Just his potency and prowess.
Immediately barreling – the speed swift, certain, and sure, limbs extending into great stride, completely unhampered by the prey, person, or peryton in the sled, sliding right behind him. Freedom, liberation, some reverence upon the way he chased down the ramparts of the world – clear and defined, his outline vivid and stark against the endless ivory.
The acceptance of a swift nature was really all he needed anyway – the Cheshire glint along his mouth was probably the best served warning for impending actions. “Best hang on then,” and Belial chirped, excited perhaps, for the upcoming motions. Steering the sled away from the overhang of the Climb, and fully back out into the snow, he took one long inhalation of air, and shifted, changed, altered entirely.
Hound nature prevailed within an instant later – massive, powerful, and potent, paws pressed into the ice, into the rime, into the tracings of tracks and behemoths. Stygian and obsidian fur coaxed and enticed at the ferocity of the wind, but even it couldn’t haunt and loom; no sooner had he stretched his limbs defiantly into the wake of the earth again, did he grasp the rope with his teeth. No harness. No trappings. Just his potency and prowess.
Immediately barreling – the speed swift, certain, and sure, limbs extending into great stride, completely unhampered by the prey, person, or peryton in the sled, sliding right behind him. Freedom, liberation, some reverence upon the way he chased down the ramparts of the world – clear and defined, his outline vivid and stark against the endless ivory.
DEIMOS
