DEIMOS
Retaliation formed in waves far more innocent than his; the flick of the drawstrings against his cheeks, the insinuation that he wouldn’t be receiving food for his work along the ice. With a wrinkle of his nose he took the gestures for what they were, but the restlessness still toyed along the fringes of his entity, half-begging for distraction and mischief in the idleness of ice. And if they were not willing or obliging, all he could muster was the vague pout and a nod towards Talyson on the notions and semblances of the ursur.So back to work he went, not conspiring anything else, save for his incantations wielded and cut through the proportions of frozen sea. It was a rinse and repeat modicum: slash the ice, lift it from the water, and slide it over towards the sled. By the time he’d finished another round, the Sword had started seeing how far he could get them, and if they’d collide with one another, sending others volleying and rallying.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
