DEIMOS
we've all got blood on our hands
something somewhere had to die
so we could stay alive
There were multitudes to take in, and his senses were a constant swing of his sweeping gaze; mildly overwhelmed by the unknown, and incessant need to be protective of those under his care. He extended nods to Halovians, acknowledging their presence and notching it in the back of his mind for awareness purposes, but to see Dantalion sidling up next to him was an unexpected notion – for some reason his mind not capable of placing the Ancient within the confines of Stormbreak. The statement earned the Grounds leader a snort though, piercing stare following more movements nearby. Waiting for something bad to happen nearly came from his mouth, but was bit down, gauging for another moment of veracity instead. “Just taking it all in.” His eyes narrowed at Koa’s approach; uncertain about the Dragoon as a whole, or the semblance of boldness granted in even coming near him. Evie must’ve known there was a barrage beginning to settle in between his ribs, for he instantly snagged at the pastry so he wasn’t tempted to come to blows, explode, or cause some snarling scene in the middle of the Plaza. “Thank you,” was a rumble, and a relief when her touch flitted along his elbow, a grounding measure before he finally poised his attention back to the young Accepted. Opting to tear off a portion of the croissant instead of anyone’s limbs, he tilted his head, listening to the long-speech, Evie’s inquiries, before pinpointing in his own concise wording. “How else was it meant to be interpreted?”
