06-06-2017, 02:25 PM
He had not been around when Pangea had fallen. Where he had been—he did not know, and certainly did not care. He had not been a fan of the wasteland to begin with. It smelled too much like Carnage. He hated the way that bastard was now parading himself among the stars like a God. The evolution of power to surpass the bounds of magic… No rules even garnered by death, while Deimos himself is strapped down to the ground like mere mortal scratching out a living, carving his memories from the rocks that were bellowing out of the fires of Hell itself. It was disgusting.
So when the scar on the lands had fallen, it was with a curled lip and a good riddance that Deimos turned tail and descended back into the bowels of the Black Forest. Once again homeless, but while he had searched for Ecco—and found himself unable to find her—he was reacquainted with the peace and solitude that comes from remaining in the company of one.
Until the blue and white laced woman comes and tears down his little leaf cave.
Deimos audibly huffs. A knee-jerk sound that starts as a rumble from the center of his chest. It emanates as puffs of black smoke protruding from his nostrils, and with a blink, the leaves are back in place, as if they’d never been. So the woman he’d been watching has power, does she? His chest heaves, and he steps out of the bushes—which immediately burn up the moment he is gone from their camouflage. Narrowing, angry eyes are set on her now, and those black wings are pulsing with the urge to strike. “Hello.”
He sees into her mind—sees her for what she is. Silence is set upon his stony features as recognition sets in, but he lets nothing out slip by. Simple words come from him then, short and staccato—a voice that was deep and fiery. Dangerous.
“You have my attention.”
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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I dont' know what is wrong with me. These are terrible words. I sorry. :/