There was nothing that Deimos enjoyed about being sent to Dawn Court---out of all the kingdoms in Astralis, Lumenopolis was the one that he despised beyond measure, he’d felt that way for several centuries now and his hate had only intensified at the usurping of the throne by perhaps the most slimy, underhanded bastard since Alejandro Cabello himself, one Elias Wakefield. It sickened Deimos to know that nothing was being done to repair Dawn Court’s already ruinous reputation, it wasn’t as if Lysander had ever been much use, the one noble thing he’d ever done had started and ended with Faun Deerling, and that was only because she made a damn good High Lady---a far better leader of their court than her warmongering son was shaping up to be. Deimos was a man of black and whites, of finites and ultimatums, there was no room for grey or sepia tones when it came to morality, as far as he was concerned, and for numerous reasons, those who supported Dawn’s ruling party were just as bad as the rest.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t mean to work, in the wake of Gabriel’s tragic stabbing, Deimos had taken upon himself to hunt down the assailant at all costs---Dawn had seemed a glaringly obvious place to start, the grievances shared with the Kingdom of Nightmares spanned almost an entire millenium, and Deimos didn’t doubt in Elias’s overt treachery even the slightest.
He moved through the bustling, gilded city like a shadow, his looming, pitch black dragon wings glamored away and out of sight to avoid drawing any untoward attention. It wasn’t as if he was particularly well known, he wasn’t nearly as conspicuous as the rest of Night Court’s Inner Circle, and his role as a Spymaster meant that he preferred to remain unnoticed anyway. Dusk had fallen, and the skies were clear if not for their dimmed twilight, but Deimos could sense a rising storm---he’d do well to find himself lodgings for the evening, and soon. “Pardon me,” he began brusquely, as he reached out to gently brush the shoulder of a passerby, his voice was slightly rough as he hid his accent with ease---everyone would know that a Frenchman could only come from one specific place in all of Astralis. He continued, “I’m looking for someplace to stay the night---is there an inn nearby, or a tavern? Something clean.” And decent, he thought to himself in disgust, but his face remained carefully blank as he pressed on with, “Is there anywhere you’d suggest?” @wickedgxmes​
