The humming was getting louder. Deimos was getting near it then. He knew it. The burning sensation in his skull was driving him mad, but it was also calling to him like a lover that he's known all his life. With a growl, he stalks, looking. Seeking.
He would find it, dammit. He would find it.
He crawled through the trees continuing to seek it out, ever seeking seeking. The son of mars was in pain and he knew it well. It felt good on him. A familiar burning, the scent of his own flesh cracking and peeling away as he drew closer to it.
To her.
He steps, slinking ever closer, and He looks with black eyes at the mark the at is deeply ingrained across her eye. Cut into the flesh and closed shut by the welding of magic and fire. She moves, unsteady and silent, as if she too is in pain.
Deimos does not care... He heaves, lifting himself up and gaining strength in his forehand, a dark, menacing growl piecing her ears as images of pain and of death and torture seep into her head - the black fingers of his mind squeezing her head, pushing on her ever so hard. "Where...did...you... get that...mark?" he growls before leaping on her - black wings pushing out and grabbing her face with those claws of his.
He would have his answers.
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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