DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Like might’ve called to like, but never would the Sword put himself on the same par as the God of Life – despite obvious similarities. Stoicism was the current chord now, and Deimos had barely enough time to raise his head, and survey Vi, before the utterances were shared. He nodded, striving to take everything in, and then relenting simply to the necessity and direness of the hour. “Thank you for the opportunity. We will do our best.” Because that was all they had now – swiftness and determination, intending to protect and shield something already put at a greater, larger risk.
So he hastened outwards with a long bow beforehand; intending to send himself and his constituents far and wide to encompass the whole.
[FIN]
So he hastened outwards with a long bow beforehand; intending to send himself and his constituents far and wide to encompass the whole.
[FIN]
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
