DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos had once been that same individual who didn’t seek out the heralds at all. Too embittered by their animosities and hostilities, too rancorous over deities from his own worlds, and indifferent towards their habits and ways, and unashamed of the blood that flowed through his veins. Then, of course, Caido happened – and after bowing his head towards shrines and receiving no replies, save for catty remarks or silence, he figured nothing much would ever occur. Safrin had righted those wrongs in her own way; but he also wouldn’t begrudge Elizabeth for not requesting guidance from them. She had her path – and whether it meandered towards gods or not would alter or delineate over time, or not at all. “Well, should you ever be interested, we have quite a few who could help.” The offer was extended anyway, but held no requirements.
He managed another laugh – and wondered what it would be like to travel again without any plotting or planning on the sidelines. Perhaps he hadn’t had the opportunity since he and Evie’s honeymoon those years ago – unless he counted smaller occasions, like festivals. “And likely without a large stack of mail to show for it.” Which had been the Sword’s misfortune lately; details strewn about from region to region, kingdom to kingdom, and he having to do the same for multitudes. His mind parsed through the areas he’d been through recently – each with their own biting critiques and occurrences – as Zuriel extended her antics with an elegant gallop tearing across the scenery.
He managed another laugh – and wondered what it would be like to travel again without any plotting or planning on the sidelines. Perhaps he hadn’t had the opportunity since he and Evie’s honeymoon those years ago – unless he counted smaller occasions, like festivals. “And likely without a large stack of mail to show for it.” Which had been the Sword’s misfortune lately; details strewn about from region to region, kingdom to kingdom, and he having to do the same for multitudes. His mind parsed through the areas he’d been through recently – each with their own biting critiques and occurrences – as Zuriel extended her antics with an elegant gallop tearing across the scenery.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
