[PQ] and bears, oh my!

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Vehement, nefarious focus, a drawing and quartering of dominion and prowess; the snapping of jaws, the waging of bones, brought back directly to a time, to a place, where all he’d ever done was persecute. A rush of the maddening haze blinded his senses until he was nothing but that withdrawn Reaper, distorted and debauched, argent domination in silent chords of violence, violence, violence – pulling, twisting, turning, waiting for the bear’s final outcry. He ripped and tore, and the unholy possession lingered in the breadth of his stance, ignoring his own injuries for a moment, watching and waiting, as the fellow predator fell to the ground. Gone and done. The satisfaction twisted like a knife, devastation simmering and smoldering behind all that savagery, and he took a few seconds to finally return to who and what he’d become in times thereafter. A brush of healing from Noah ensured the seams of his wounds stitched back together, an impact of scars no longer so feasible. Zuriel’s arrival further incited any other healing, and his hound gaze only swept away, back to the couple, with a tilting of his head. A shift, and Deimos was the Sword again, standing beside his companion, hand brushing over her forelock as he stared at the prey. “Everyone all right?” And he nodded towards Noah. “Thank you,” for the soothing, assuaging conjectures. As for the fire…”That was my fault.” And it’d felt glorious – to unleash the flames and embers. Circumstances be damned – there were always more bear pelts. He withdrew his hunting knife, beginning the eternal process of what came after. “It will still provide us with enough.” And wouldn’t go to waste. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace