DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Bagging the bakery contents and thanking the merchant, his brows arched thereafter at Sah’s intentions behind the items, both present and future. An understandable notion, given everything that had happened to Luka. Whether not anything could’ve been done in the face of Dahlia went unsaid; the Sword had his own machinations to work through on those fronts. “Quite a project,” but worth the efforts – if it saved them.
Head tilting, he made his way over, shuffling the bag into the crook of his arm while he studied the offered paper; depictions of wolves, moons, and stars - nothing screaming either of the twins to him. But perhaps he didn't know them well enough. “Did you ask them?” Meaning Soleil and Luka specifically; figuring their preferences might matter, and uncertain whether or not they even knew about their father’s undertaking.
Head tilting, he made his way over, shuffling the bag into the crook of his arm while he studied the offered paper; depictions of wolves, moons, and stars - nothing screaming either of the twins to him. But perhaps he didn't know them well enough. “Did you ask them?” Meaning Soleil and Luka specifically; figuring their preferences might matter, and uncertain whether or not they even knew about their father’s undertaking.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
