DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos fell silent and quiet, tucking all the information in the back of his mind for further perusals and musings. His main point and junctures had always been the safety of his people, his friends, and his loved ones – and as long as the Ancients, and multitudes of others, didn’t represent a threat to any of those aspects, then he found no issue with them. Thus far, he’d found them to be much the same as everyone else. So he nodded, brows furrowing only slightly as his calculations churned along that constantly machinating mind.
He couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that came at the next statement though. Probably war-hardened and still tired of being on the tense, apprehensive end of wondering what would happen amidst the Ascended again, even years later. “Fair enough. Though I do not think it was always that way,” at least not for him. “But announcements of war do a lot to people.” Alter. Change.
Squinting at the light, and then glancing down at the darkling draw, he offered a slight sigh. “Not yet. I would like to find one of these things, and then head home.” Pausing momentarily in his long strides, he glanced back at Fox. “You?”
He couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that came at the next statement though. Probably war-hardened and still tired of being on the tense, apprehensive end of wondering what would happen amidst the Ascended again, even years later. “Fair enough. Though I do not think it was always that way,” at least not for him. “But announcements of war do a lot to people.” Alter. Change.
Squinting at the light, and then glancing down at the darkling draw, he offered a slight sigh. “Not yet. I would like to find one of these things, and then head home.” Pausing momentarily in his long strides, he glanced back at Fox. “You?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
