DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He waited; quiet and silent in the solemn surroundings. Moments later she appeared – and though he’d never find her lacking in any radiance – it was clear that Seren’s death had taken its toll. Uncertain how his gifts would be received, he remained in measured observation, watching for reactions, for signs that she found them lacking or not wanted.
At the murmur, he released a long breath, all the other trepidations he’d been holding in place. “Thank you.” And he nodded; having done as requested, following the demand, feeling the starlight and grace piercing through the slate and bone and enamel; one less weight across his shoulders. But there were more inquiries to pass through, and once his gratitude was extended again, he postured a question in the breadth of silence, rather than to any other listening ears. Has Hadama told you our plans? Or, at the very least, the start of some.
At the murmur, he released a long breath, all the other trepidations he’d been holding in place. “Thank you.” And he nodded; having done as requested, following the demand, feeling the starlight and grace piercing through the slate and bone and enamel; one less weight across his shoulders. But there were more inquiries to pass through, and once his gratitude was extended again, he postured a question in the breadth of silence, rather than to any other listening ears. Has Hadama told you our plans? Or, at the very least, the start of some.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
