i want to be outrageous

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

The bite of sarcasm, the sardonic snap, only ignited the depths of his mischievous grin. The Sword wouldn’t put it past her to have done just that – flames and all, in one glorious conflagration. Likely, much like Chulane, it had been the result of misfortune, a trick and twist of some higher or lower spirits, amused by their own antics, indifferent towards another’s plight. So while he grew silent, mulling over other particulars, the unicorn snorted and placed her head on the woman’s shoulder, offering what little comfort she could provide.

He took another swig, contemplating where exactly to push and prod and irritate, or to flicker off into other ethers. “I do not.” Blunt and honest truth; the man could calculate and persecute and maim, but there were only so many solutions to unknowns. Curses, especially with a range of possibilities and limitations, could only be so known. “May have to suffer through this one.” The notion of it could be worse contorted through his head, but he gave it no voice via Attuned bond or other predilections – no intention of accounting for which plague ailed more. So a sigh filtered through instead, contemplating how best to approach. Distraction? Listen to the grumbling? Perhaps he’d try one, and then the other. “I believe it is your turn for a story."

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead