DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
Deimos was never quite bored - he had enough duties and responsibilities to ensure he had enough to fill his days. And even then, he found juvenile amusements within them. Perhaps the true danger was when he found a way to terrorize friends and family in the childish aspects, easily molded and driven into the temptation when comfortable.
Like now, inspecting the press of hardened magma, pondering what to do with it.
But he was permitted the distraction of some distant and familiar taunting, lifting his gaze to the Valkyrie’s, laughing at the brief, but accurate, description of the courier. “Probably you too, but that would be more difficult to admit.” And even then, he tilted his head, a silent gesture – not proclaimed across the bond, likely akin to you sure you are all right? in some feline dimension.
Another snort volleyed its way through his chest at the mention of affinities towards spas. “Or perhaps he is afraid you will bully him there,” for they both knew better. A perfect opportunity for anarchy and intimidation, even if it might’ve been for a worthy cause. “Good place to start,” at the notions of visits, not pressing any further into the wakes and midsts of everything else lurking in those semblances.
Once she was done kicking at the lump, he picked up a fragment of it, broken off, light, tossing it along his palm, catching it rapidly thereafter.
Like now, inspecting the press of hardened magma, pondering what to do with it.
But he was permitted the distraction of some distant and familiar taunting, lifting his gaze to the Valkyrie’s, laughing at the brief, but accurate, description of the courier. “Probably you too, but that would be more difficult to admit.” And even then, he tilted his head, a silent gesture – not proclaimed across the bond, likely akin to you sure you are all right? in some feline dimension.
Another snort volleyed its way through his chest at the mention of affinities towards spas. “Or perhaps he is afraid you will bully him there,” for they both knew better. A perfect opportunity for anarchy and intimidation, even if it might’ve been for a worthy cause. “Good place to start,” at the notions of visits, not pressing any further into the wakes and midsts of everything else lurking in those semblances.
Once she was done kicking at the lump, he picked up a fragment of it, broken off, light, tossing it along his palm, catching it rapidly thereafter.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
