DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He continued watching the antics, provoked by him, from the corner of his eye. Once everyone seemed rankled and riled, spewing venom at one another, he opted to aim another snowball towards the same victim – namely so he couldn’t continue accusing the others. The blatant confusion surrounding the trials and tribulations made him snort inwardly again. Should they have glanced over in his direction, they’d only seem him seemingly quietly contemplating something Rhiannon said.
Though her inquiry was met with a more automatic answer on this interval. “Fire,” said, uttered, and rumbled through his chest with little hesitation. While life drain had always been his first and far more familiar than any others, it wasn’t an element per se, and the flames, embers, tied back crucially to his family and heritage; not to mention the level of demolition, destruction, and necessity it seemed to harbor.
Tilting his head and maneuvering more of the snow, he offered the notions in return. “Is there one you hope to gain?”
Though her inquiry was met with a more automatic answer on this interval. “Fire,” said, uttered, and rumbled through his chest with little hesitation. While life drain had always been his first and far more familiar than any others, it wasn’t an element per se, and the flames, embers, tied back crucially to his family and heritage; not to mention the level of demolition, destruction, and necessity it seemed to harbor.
Tilting his head and maneuvering more of the snow, he offered the notions in return. “Is there one you hope to gain?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
