DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos tilted his head again at the sudden change of expression on the Ancient’s face; he’d long since learned the power of observation and scrutiny, whether it was opponents, allies, or otherwise. He’d clearly said something that sparked and flickered within her mind, and tucked the notion into his own skull. The withdrawal was nearly tangible as well, and he nearly snorted at it all. “She has. And of course.” He doubted the Evergreen’s reaction would be the same, but he'd pass the information on just the same.
Her reticence was far more overbearing than his own, so he nodded, completing the transaction and impending departure. “Thank you for your help today as well. Let me know what you find.” For knowledge and information was power, especially against whatever they were facing.
From there, he shifted and turned towards outreaches of the horizon, an eagle on the wind.
{FIN}
Her reticence was far more overbearing than his own, so he nodded, completing the transaction and impending departure. “Thank you for your help today as well. Let me know what you find.” For knowledge and information was power, especially against whatever they were facing.
From there, he shifted and turned towards outreaches of the horizon, an eagle on the wind.
{FIN}
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
