DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
The Sword understood reticence – the need to simply turn inward, and barely reveal any distinguishing notions. He’d once done it simply for survival across multiple lands, snagging at information necessary and never giving his own out freely. Caido was different in those circumstances, in lately the threats came from outside corridors, rather than the primordial facets of Ascended versus the rest of them. But he didn’t press on Maea either, no prying notions, no tugging at strings, letting the curiosities remain just as still and stoic as himself; a well of quiet pondering that would likely go nowhere.
He'd never pictured her as a soldier – not when she’d been someone tugging at wisdom in the days where they’d all been sequestered in the Grounds. Alongside Jigano, attempting to understand the complexities and fundamentals of why events were happening, and answering the questions the hordes of Outlanders had in their travels to this world. Nor did he think Danta cared one iota for any warriors established within his terrain, but the Sword had been surprised before.
When the question turned back upon him, he nodded. “Fly home. There is still much to be done after everything.” Pondering further, because there were other necessities to be met, he tilted his head again, the piercing slate of his gaze already calculating. “And you? I may have need for information within the Greatwood – we have heard nothing from them, save for a few new creatures there.” If Maea was at all interested – uncertain where she landed on exploring and lore seeking nowadays.
He'd never pictured her as a soldier – not when she’d been someone tugging at wisdom in the days where they’d all been sequestered in the Grounds. Alongside Jigano, attempting to understand the complexities and fundamentals of why events were happening, and answering the questions the hordes of Outlanders had in their travels to this world. Nor did he think Danta cared one iota for any warriors established within his terrain, but the Sword had been surprised before.
When the question turned back upon him, he nodded. “Fly home. There is still much to be done after everything.” Pondering further, because there were other necessities to be met, he tilted his head again, the piercing slate of his gaze already calculating. “And you? I may have need for information within the Greatwood – we have heard nothing from them, save for a few new creatures there.” If Maea was at all interested – uncertain where she landed on exploring and lore seeking nowadays.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
