DEIMOS
Raw power could always be admired – but he’d never have the healing proportions that Evie, and many others, conveyed. Too drawn into the wakes of darker fulfillments, his way of mending and assuaging were barrages, assaults, and sieges, ensuring nothing touched those he cherished. No way to coax another on the brink, no way to unravel the persistent lacerations or the unholy scars. So perhaps both were to be rendered in esteem and regard; even upon opposing ends. So he watched with the fringes of his smile as rubble maneuvered and spun, her own abilities growing with each passing day. Practice and skill, precision and might, with the weight of unbidden traces, out of range of judgement and free to reign, could always compel more mastery. The barrage of stone met tooth and still the enamel remained justifiably sound – cracking another grin so that the whites of his teeth shown in boyish amusement. “Not with that attitude,” and he winked, nose wrinkling in an attempt to rile and rankle.
As for something showy – he arched a brow, but readied the demonstration just the same. Summoning one of his favorites, despite using it earlier, it was to a greater, grander scale that the inferno seared and soared into the air. Upon touching the chilling winds, it changed and altered at his command, beckoning and summoning twists and turns that ensured his mighty control and bestial demands, boundaries of barbarity existing and welled inside his heart and soul. First, with the semblance of a phoenix, breathing fire down upon the ivory fragment, before changing, rapidly, quickly, into a dragon, and then a hellhound.
You aren't afraid of throwing yourself
in the path of danger
but you're terrified of letting anyone in
