a shelter and a warning

Deimos

The Sword shrugged his shoulders, giving no further indication of traps or his preferences towards snagging prey; brows furrowing slightly as the gush of blood reeled through. Maneuvering back and out of range, returning to his full height, for he was no mender, he gave Zuriel a silent gesture, a jutting of his jawline towards the obvious wounds. “My unicorn can heal you,” by way of offering, unless the man wanted to be left hemorrhaging along the shoreline, and eventually picked off by something else. Caido always found a way.

The mare stepped forward, her expression a melding and weaving of regal snobbery, head bending down so her horn could unfurl the incantations and magic stored within – intending to seal over punctures and lacerations, fortifying skin, flesh, and sinew.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.