Deimos

At a masquerade ball, someone catches your attention. Their face is covered in a simply gorgeous mask, black and gold, resembling a bird’s beak. Those eyes. You could you know them. But…from where? The stranger approaches, and silently offers a dance. Little do you know, you were correct. You do know those eyes. They belong to Deimos. A villain. An enemy. A traitor. His intentions aren’t too bleak. He’s simply…lacking in entertainment. You’re the perfect target. From the second you caught a glimpse of you, many moons ago, he recognised that little hint of villainy you’ve spent so long burying deep inside.