Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
Capable of contorting his tea into any temperature he wanted, the monolith savored his drink while she continued, striving once more not to waste any of it by snorting or laughing too fiercely. “He has always been like that. Has a good heart, tries to put it in the right place, but…,” headstrong, determined, and a bit daft. The fact that the cleric was still alive was a testament to the man either having the most luck or something else watching out over him – perhaps his favored Kor. He wrinkled his nose as his voice trailed off, allowing Evie to fill in the blanks. Serenely sipping at his tea again, perhaps purposefully loudly to be obnoxious, as the healer was thwarted and scalded by her own, his eyes gave a decidedly boyish arch at her furtive statement, a quirk of his mouth into a subtle smirk. “Oh?” A degree of challenge and goading lay immersed in there somewhere, narrowing his gaze again into a piercing, pointed juncture; though he couldn’t blame her, considering he was a wall of secrets as well. “Best friends with banshees?” Rather than continuing on with the quip, he could only shake his head once more, allowing the long locks to drift along his shoulders, remaining in juvenile proportions just the same. “You do not wish to repeat the experience?”
Finishing his drink well before her, he placed the mug down beside the sink, and then took up the makeshift molds again, toying with the snowflake one in between his fingers. “Did you get any rewards for your heroics?”
