DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos watched; the careful scrutiny of mending and assuaging there in the midst of a stranger offering them respite. He was not too far removed from war; difficult as it was to parse through sometimes when people were simply kind and compassionate, rather than pretenses and an underlying omen. Instead of threats though, the ring, while not overly potent, seemed to take the worst of the edges off – enough they’d be able to forge ahead with renewed strength towards their march home.
When she seemed to pinpoint her gaze on him, however, some stubborn portion nearly rooted behind his teeth in refusal. Of the type to cut off his own nose to spite his face, his thoughts meandered into mulish territory. The wound wasn’t that bad, in his eyes (despite the slow trickle of blood still continuing down his arm), and maybe it’d be more helpful to have her round back over the others, then they could depart. His jaw clenched, and he could see one of the warriors nearby grant him a very flattened look, before the Sword wrinkled his nose and extended his arm out to be mended. Looking elsewhere, across the Sea of Glass’s expanse, he sighed, but tucked it inward, granting no explanation and only delving further into inquiries. “Who are you?”
When she seemed to pinpoint her gaze on him, however, some stubborn portion nearly rooted behind his teeth in refusal. Of the type to cut off his own nose to spite his face, his thoughts meandered into mulish territory. The wound wasn’t that bad, in his eyes (despite the slow trickle of blood still continuing down his arm), and maybe it’d be more helpful to have her round back over the others, then they could depart. His jaw clenched, and he could see one of the warriors nearby grant him a very flattened look, before the Sword wrinkled his nose and extended his arm out to be mended. Looking elsewhere, across the Sea of Glass’s expanse, he sighed, but tucked it inward, granting no explanation and only delving further into inquiries. “Who are you?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
