DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Mrs. Took had about the same personality as her husband, which was perhaps how they’d gotten along for so how many years. Arms folded across her chest, there was hardly a reaction at all as the unicorn approached, healed, and mended her leg, save for more than a sharp huff. “Thank you, young man,” she extended back to Noah, and even that note of gratitude seemed strained. “I’m going to rest now,” pointing towards one of the unoccupied spaces, already marching over to pull one of the curtains aside. “Don’t let those children bother me,” and she yanked the hangings shut.
Between Eira and Sah’s creations, the Banks’ kids were occupied, but it was difficult to keep any of them from squealing after the griffin overhead, little hands outstretched for feathers and fur. The older ones were much more apt to go for the games, clearly unbothered by the griffin, laying out a checkers mat along one of the desk tops. ”Thank you,” Mrs. Banks offered in return, already trying to corral those yearning to snag at Noah’s companion.
As for Mrs. Knotwise, Deimos pondered over various solutions – she didn’t appear injured, though maybe more than a little rattled from the ongoings, which was a normal and acceptable response from the laden devastation. “Would you like to cook?” He offered in return, beginning to lead her over to the fireplace and the large pot set aside. It’d be something like normalcy, despite lacking her usual accoutrements. The woman’s face lit up at the notions, patting his arm again as she hastened about, beginning to prep for the sudden influx of ideas. ”Could make a nice soup,” and on a spare piece of paper the Sword supplied, she began to make a list of ingredients she needed.
Which would be fortunate, since even amidst the shelter, besides the meat stored, they’d need more food for the occupants. Deimos turned, his loud rumbling voice echoing over the foundations already instilled. “When you two are ready, we should set up the dining area.”
--
NPCs are occupied (for now). We need the following done for the next round:
- One to take Mrs. Knotwise’s list and gather supplies (as best they can in the current state of things) – including water, vegetables, meat, and the like
- Two to move tables, chairs, etc. and prep the dining area
No post order!
Between Eira and Sah’s creations, the Banks’ kids were occupied, but it was difficult to keep any of them from squealing after the griffin overhead, little hands outstretched for feathers and fur. The older ones were much more apt to go for the games, clearly unbothered by the griffin, laying out a checkers mat along one of the desk tops. ”Thank you,” Mrs. Banks offered in return, already trying to corral those yearning to snag at Noah’s companion.
As for Mrs. Knotwise, Deimos pondered over various solutions – she didn’t appear injured, though maybe more than a little rattled from the ongoings, which was a normal and acceptable response from the laden devastation. “Would you like to cook?” He offered in return, beginning to lead her over to the fireplace and the large pot set aside. It’d be something like normalcy, despite lacking her usual accoutrements. The woman’s face lit up at the notions, patting his arm again as she hastened about, beginning to prep for the sudden influx of ideas. ”Could make a nice soup,” and on a spare piece of paper the Sword supplied, she began to make a list of ingredients she needed.
Which would be fortunate, since even amidst the shelter, besides the meat stored, they’d need more food for the occupants. Deimos turned, his loud rumbling voice echoing over the foundations already instilled. “When you two are ready, we should set up the dining area.”
--
NPCs are occupied (for now). We need the following done for the next round:
- One to take Mrs. Knotwise’s list and gather supplies (as best they can in the current state of things) – including water, vegetables, meat, and the like
- Two to move tables, chairs, etc. and prep the dining area
No post order!
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
