reminiscing endlessly

Deimos Deimos might have noticed or recognized the accent more had he interacted beyond futile moments with the Whitebrim cannibals. One had been within a damned and doomed cave, somewhat splintered between grumbles, and ultimately forgotten as death took him, and multitudes of others, swiftly. Any other course had been remedied across the remains of Whitebrim’s huts and locales with fire and flame, destruction and menace, aiming to ensure none of them returned. Not many had been around to complain about the various ventures. Unaware one in front of him had survived, throughout whatever means and measures noteworthy, his brow arched, taking in the information. Kiada and Danta had told him as much prior, and with the bonfire, he figured most of the Ancients would be just fine throughout the wintry season. Though he indulged with a snort, knowing how traumatic it used to be. “At least you will not have to worry about LongNight,” and the monsters that had followed in its wake. On an air of restlessness, he snagged at the pebbles down by his feet, rolling them around his palm. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime