DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
It wasn’t uncommon for Deimos to be summoned back into his office, and so despite the interruption to the tasks at hand, he gave the uneasy soldier a nod, complying with the notions of intrusion once more. Everything else was makeshift and habitual – passing his status on to a few fellow warriors as they hemmed and hawed in understanding, before ducking away from the spars, and heading into the room.
Sure enough, as he wandered in, there was a stranger in the midst. With no name or purpose given, he remained stoic and guarded, he gave low rumble of greeting, lingering along the threshold of the door, head tilted, striving to analyze the situation. “Hello. Can I help you?” Nowadays, it could be anything at all.
Sure enough, as he wandered in, there was a stranger in the midst. With no name or purpose given, he remained stoic and guarded, he gave low rumble of greeting, lingering along the threshold of the door, head tilted, striving to analyze the situation. “Hello. Can I help you?” Nowadays, it could be anything at all.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
