DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
“Nowadays I prefer anything normal and routine,” he countered. If it wasn't world shattering or life altering, Deimos considered it a decent day. Granting her a light wrinkle of his nose before moving more, icy dissipations altered into snow, and then he started yielding to more Air arrangements, utilizing it as a shoveling proportion as the powder maneuvered under his incantations with ease.
It helped when the guard turned around and huffed – clearly trying to decipher the culprit. But given how many allies the Sword had cultivated within his own, no one, including Rhiannon, seemed to give him up, and the soldier turned around with a roll of his eyes, to continue in the rest of their feats.
Granting a cheeky grin back at the fellow hybrid, he bobbed his head. “Thank you.” This time, as he formed another, he manifested more of the Air again, so that it gently glided over the same soldier, dropped unceremoniously over the top of his hat.
It helped when the guard turned around and huffed – clearly trying to decipher the culprit. But given how many allies the Sword had cultivated within his own, no one, including Rhiannon, seemed to give him up, and the soldier turned around with a roll of his eyes, to continue in the rest of their feats.
Granting a cheeky grin back at the fellow hybrid, he bobbed his head. “Thank you.” This time, as he formed another, he manifested more of the Air again, so that it gently glided over the same soldier, dropped unceremoniously over the top of his hat.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
