12-29-2017, 08:46 PM
When the trickster steps away from his prize, Deimos partakes - taking what was left of the viscera and sinew. The heart was already gone - Lokii had eaten it himself, but the tender bits, filled with blood and warmth, stung Deimos' throat as he slid them down into his stomach, allowing the sensation of blood to stain his lips red. His look to the other man was not one of appreciation, or respect. Instead, he quirks an eyebrow to him, as if he has any reason at all to ask for the magician's name. And yet, between chews of messy intestine and liver, Deimos spits out his name to the other, spraying bits of gut everywhere as he does so.
Those large wings of his hang to him, clinging to his side. And as he finishes the rather paltry meal, he blinks at the sandstorms... The whirling sand dervishes that congregate at his Lokii's feet. What a cute little parlor trick. A glamor. "Can't produce anything larger than that?" Deimos laughs darkly as he finishes the last of the badger, his eyes going wild with need, and with death, his talons are seeping deep into his chest.
"Homeless with the departure of the white nag would would be king? That seems to be what happens to all the evil louts who have designs on power in this land. Which is why you see me standing before you, instead of bent over the backsides of countless ladies."
DEIMOS
cry ‘havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war…
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