DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
His brow remained firmly arched at the notions of understanding – because sometimes that remained to be seen. He’d had plenty volunteer to assist, and then become fully entrenched in the danger and suddenly be in over their heads. He kept the notions in mind though, in case there would ever be a time. “What have you experienced on the beach?” he inquired instead; striving to comprehend the other complexities of such perils and hazards, how they might align similarly towards the Tundra. He could fathom many lost at sea, broken amidst and amongst waves and undercurrents; aspects they would’ve encountered back in Isilme, amongst his homeland’s seas.
Of course, there were other factors at play, and given how often search and rescue came with less-than-ideal circumstances, he asked another question, tugging on the sled and maneuvering things along. “Do you have a way to defend yourself?”
Of course, there were other factors at play, and given how often search and rescue came with less-than-ideal circumstances, he asked another question, tugging on the sled and maneuvering things along. “Do you have a way to defend yourself?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
