DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Were it not for Noah or Kiada’s presence within the Hollowed Grounds, Deimos might have continued in his avoidance of it. Changes and alterations might have bent some of the nostalgic traces, but it was still difficult to ignore them all – same pathways, same worn out portions, same buildings interlocking and damaged. Others were gone, eradicated completely, and new ones had taken shape, but the Sword could still see outlines in the back of his mind – where they roamed, where they clustered, where they fought.
Now there were Sparkbird scorchmarks and Ancient dwellings, and Noah standing before a building the Warden had constructed years before. It had been converted and revised with the times too, and something bitter and rancorous within his blood bit a little at the thought of Ascended amends. It didn’t matter anymore; but he couldn’t help at the primordial grudge of warfare and dissent.
“Noah,” he approached on a rumble instead, without companions; saving them for future wanderings. I have other news for you too laden in between bonds, rather than sought out into the wake, but he kept his features neutral, battling the tides of ferocity, contentment, and trepidation in his skull. “What were you hoping to improve?”
Now there were Sparkbird scorchmarks and Ancient dwellings, and Noah standing before a building the Warden had constructed years before. It had been converted and revised with the times too, and something bitter and rancorous within his blood bit a little at the thought of Ascended amends. It didn’t matter anymore; but he couldn’t help at the primordial grudge of warfare and dissent.
“Noah,” he approached on a rumble instead, without companions; saving them for future wanderings. I have other news for you too laden in between bonds, rather than sought out into the wake, but he kept his features neutral, battling the tides of ferocity, contentment, and trepidation in his skull. “What were you hoping to improve?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
