DEIMOS
His brow arched as impish qualities flickered back on the alchemist, awaiting some grandiose efforts or tale, hoping to gain some sort of abject quality to discern any potential growth, any tactics, any plans, any machinations. He savored a few more swallows of his liquor, listening intently, placing the glass down before some burn of amusement found it elsewhere. The fact that an echo machine or device had somehow become a lobster was impressive and bewildering all at once, and he took a moment or two to smother down the sharp chuckle threatening to escape from his throat. Instead, his lips drew into a boyish grin, shaking his head and downing another gulp. You will not know until you try; which meant he’d keep experimenting, keep applying, keep rendering whatever means anyone or everyone found necessary. “I have been warned,” he resounded, fighting the notion to roll his eyes. He’d never been capable of concocting anything of Remi’s stature or prowess though – especially not something living. Perhaps one day he’d either tip the scales or continue hovering in the same notions, given the right motivations, the correct aspirations - pulling his hands apart absentmindedly, as if imagining what they could conjure between palms once more.
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
