[Training] don't you know i'm not afraid to shed a little blood

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Never intending to discourage, deter, or dissuade fellow mages, Deimos continued to exist in the mantras of incantations pulsing, pervading, and illuminating the world with their abilities. There was no backing away from the capabilities presiding in his veins; he didn’t shirk, he didn’t hide, he didn’t abandon the qualities of his existence for the sake of anyone else’s lingering shame. It had taken years to be where he was now – through all the multitudes of defeats and losses, triumphs and successes, and everything else gnarled and carved in between. And no one was going to take those modicums away from him. “What happened to your concentration?” He mused, as her arrows and attention seemed to wander and fade as soon as he started his antics. They’d already trained like this before – where he purposefully drew notice and regard from her enchantments; a reminder cast aloft with the slow arch of his brow and a twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. From there, he persisted with his own; eyes narrowing, arrow and strand drawn, watching as the armament eventually sailed through the air, landing in false Neron’s overly exaggerated nose. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace