Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He heard his name reverberate over the might of striking steel and half-hearted shouts, raising his head to stare across the expanse of soldiers, warriors, and guards alike. Focusing on movement and motion, Sah’s swift form was caught and noticed before he rounded over to catch him, and he carefully placed his blade back along its hilt; no need for its armaments and serrated edges within the moment. “Sah,” came along a rumbled greeting, the vague tilt of his head that either yielded studious glances or machinations building and brimming behind his eyes. With a swift nod, he gestured towards an open portion along the grounds, closer to where the ceiling opened up, away from swinging swords and thrown shields; a comfortable area to reign and explore the depths, powers, and potential of someone’s magic.
And though he hadn’t had the same issues as Sah, for his incantations were contorted and controlled, he could understand the elemental situation. “It could happen. Can you show me first?” His jaw jutted towards a target – clearly painted in the form of Zariah – for Sah to experiment on, wanting to witness the notions and difficulties for himself.
