this is the reckoning
Deimos was a master of patience and fortitude; waiting for something to erupt or fracture. When it was only uncertainty echoing, his name, an inquiry beginning to take form as recognition in his own mind – days spent within the Grounds, and venturing towards the Greatwood; like lifetimes before now. He merely snorted – instead the deepened rumble came as his head tilted in mirrors and echoes, amused. Ashetta?
More or less because he’d seen her daughter wandering within not long ago; with her daggers and knives and much like her mother in the way of yearning to render things apart – but with much less bloodshed. Until the void luxere attacked, ultimately.
A residual arch to his brow formed, habitual no matter the shift he took on, listening as memories conjured and contorted. Yes. She followed my hunting party out. Figuring this wouldn’t be much of a surprise, his eyes roamed elsewhere, studying the land, before rendered back to the black wolf. What brings you this way?
More or less because he’d seen her daughter wandering within not long ago; with her daggers and knives and much like her mother in the way of yearning to render things apart – but with much less bloodshed. Until the void luxere attacked, ultimately.
A residual arch to his brow formed, habitual no matter the shift he took on, listening as memories conjured and contorted. Yes. She followed my hunting party out. Figuring this wouldn’t be much of a surprise, his eyes roamed elsewhere, studying the land, before rendered back to the black wolf. What brings you this way?
DEIMOS
