DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Danta’s appearance, and words, earned him a snort, maneuvering alongside and stifling a large sigh. “I do not want to be here, but I keep my promises,” he nodded in the Ancient’s direction, eyes already narrowing back at others who were sent skirting along and away. It wouldn't have been fair of him to ask Danta to traverse to snowy reaches, nor anywhere in between. “Saw Maea again in Stormbreak soon after,” the ‘unfortunately’ went unsaid, but given what he already knew about the fool’s lost role, he shrugged his shoulders; at least in Halo they’d all be safe from her ideas, notions, and meetings.
Another nod of his head was granted, jaw clenching tightly and then not, as if he remembered he didn’t always have to keep up the impassivity. “They are. And thank you for your efforts.” It’d be a group achievement to put up their farces and pretenses long enough to satisfy Dahlia, and let Evie and Erebos evade the circumstances. “Do you already have a coat in mind,” presuming the man had some preferred style or fashion, “or do I need to make one from scratch?”
Another nod of his head was granted, jaw clenching tightly and then not, as if he remembered he didn’t always have to keep up the impassivity. “They are. And thank you for your efforts.” It’d be a group achievement to put up their farces and pretenses long enough to satisfy Dahlia, and let Evie and Erebos evade the circumstances. “Do you already have a coat in mind,” presuming the man had some preferred style or fashion, “or do I need to make one from scratch?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
