[Training] don't you know i'm not afraid to shed a little blood

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Deimos had long since learned not to assume; even if notions seemed fairly obvious, some people still weren’t. He could calculate, speculate, and deviate all day long on a character’s intentions, and their impulsive inclinations would leave him circling back over perceptions and realities. Arching his brow at her answer, he waited for her to exactly as she said – getting the bow ready, an apprehensive dance of fingers on the quiver, a gruff notion coming thereafter. He snorted, head tilting vaguely, as if deciding if he was going to assist or not. Which he often did anyway, but taunting and teasing were never out of the realm of possibility. “Show me what you know first,” he added, jaw jutting towards the target – intending to see how she’d started, began, her journey of archery, before assigning tips and tricks. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace