DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Bemused for the moment, Zuriel watched as the curls bounced and bounded back from her torment, and then maneuvered to Aisha’s other side, intending to occupy the opposing shoulder. Deimos watched the entire spectacle with an arch of his brow and the shake of his head, but if it kept the cursed one occupied, indifferent, or content, rather than sitting and settling into the ominous chill, then he wouldn’t warn the mare off.
Then he waited, entirely habitual and routine to do so, immersed in the layers of silence. The man could’ve been quiet for lifetimes, and had been on many occasions, still and waiting, for movement, for motion, for unraveling. But such wasn’t the case in these interludes – banter and affability in the otherwise turbulent world, and he merely sat in the conclusion of thoughts and parameters, as she gave over to options. The Sword might’ve made a comment about her lacking any impulsivity in this regard – no impetuous reign or obvious choice. “Sometimes it just happens.” Nothing more than a moment to make a decision, to come face to face with the semblance of bonds scorching and blazing through – acceptance, monumental regard for a creature slipping in amongst one’s soul.
At the mention of demons, infidels, cretins and creatures of otherworldly expanse, he barked another laugh. “And what monsters have you already seen?” Besides the human aspects – for he’d seen plenty of both.
Then he waited, entirely habitual and routine to do so, immersed in the layers of silence. The man could’ve been quiet for lifetimes, and had been on many occasions, still and waiting, for movement, for motion, for unraveling. But such wasn’t the case in these interludes – banter and affability in the otherwise turbulent world, and he merely sat in the conclusion of thoughts and parameters, as she gave over to options. The Sword might’ve made a comment about her lacking any impulsivity in this regard – no impetuous reign or obvious choice. “Sometimes it just happens.” Nothing more than a moment to make a decision, to come face to face with the semblance of bonds scorching and blazing through – acceptance, monumental regard for a creature slipping in amongst one’s soul.
At the mention of demons, infidels, cretins and creatures of otherworldly expanse, he barked another laugh. “And what monsters have you already seen?” Besides the human aspects – for he’d seen plenty of both.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
