12-10-2016, 05:12 PM
Deimos has had enough.
His granddaughter is the cause of this discomfort, and yet, she stands, silent, emotionless. Ajatar. Nasty little thing. With a flick of his tail, his wings pump and stretch outward, as if voicing their agitation with this. the talons turn and scratch at the boils that threaten to burst and spread. drawing lines of fire across his body to cauterize the wound and to stem infection.
When he is finished, those great wings tuck themselves in once again, the 'hands' clasping together at the front of his chest, as if holding hands. "She is powerful, believe you me." He spares no artifice, no games. Harmonia's very presence here makes him itch, but she is every ounce his daughter, just as the one with her was every inch his blood as well. "She will be the true Reckoning of us all." He nods then, all trace of humor or obligatory evil put aside for the moment.
Right now he is a man, and a father--albeit a very absent one. He still has no need or want to make reparations or a relationship with this pair. But she is better than the games they play with the plebians that pass by them every day. So, he nods his head and flares his nostrils at them--almost an angry grunt--and turns toward the wind. His words were unaddressed, but it was clear to whom they were for--
--the child.
"When I see you next, I would hope that you will have controlled that little trick. Plaguing your family is not very nice... Not that I expect you will grow up as a child of the light."
Wings spread, and with a woomf he lifts that great black body into the sky.
There was much to do.
His granddaughter is the cause of this discomfort, and yet, she stands, silent, emotionless. Ajatar. Nasty little thing. With a flick of his tail, his wings pump and stretch outward, as if voicing their agitation with this. the talons turn and scratch at the boils that threaten to burst and spread. drawing lines of fire across his body to cauterize the wound and to stem infection.
When he is finished, those great wings tuck themselves in once again, the 'hands' clasping together at the front of his chest, as if holding hands. "She is powerful, believe you me." He spares no artifice, no games. Harmonia's very presence here makes him itch, but she is every ounce his daughter, just as the one with her was every inch his blood as well. "She will be the true Reckoning of us all." He nods then, all trace of humor or obligatory evil put aside for the moment.
Right now he is a man, and a father--albeit a very absent one. He still has no need or want to make reparations or a relationship with this pair. But she is better than the games they play with the plebians that pass by them every day. So, he nods his head and flares his nostrils at them--almost an angry grunt--and turns toward the wind. His words were unaddressed, but it was clear to whom they were for--
--the child.
"When I see you next, I would hope that you will have controlled that little trick. Plaguing your family is not very nice... Not that I expect you will grow up as a child of the light."
Wings spread, and with a woomf he lifts that great black body into the sky.
There was much to do.