DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
It didn’t surprise him that Darkeye had been busy. Even in the midst of repose and sanctuaries, the priest seemed to have motives, goals, and aspirations, especially for the Grounds, and as someone similar, Deimos wouldn’t judge him for it. “I came from the masquerade,” and he jutted his jawline towards the refuge in the distance, hiding his notions and thoughts on the spectacle. He hadn’t enjoyed the semblances of magic or attunements peeled away, that was for certain. “Grounds doing all right?”
Knowing what this was in particular was a stretch, and so he rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “A wellhouse, but I did not recall ever seeing it before.” And he’d explored the vast range of King’s End in their time of exile, while grumbling and plotting next movements. His gaze eventually settled on the well, another shrug following. “Tried to throw a stone in to determine the depth,” and because it was slightly juvenile. “Did not hear anything.”
Knowing what this was in particular was a stretch, and so he rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “A wellhouse, but I did not recall ever seeing it before.” And he’d explored the vast range of King’s End in their time of exile, while grumbling and plotting next movements. His gaze eventually settled on the well, another shrug following. “Tried to throw a stone in to determine the depth,” and because it was slightly juvenile. “Did not hear anything.”
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
