I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos’s sojourns during the middle of Deepfrost weren’t wholly frequent – but enough to ensure some information flowed through guild chains and trades were coherent and consistent layers to ongoing multitudes. By the time he’d finished up at the market square, he had acquired enough pelts and feathers to keep multitudes in Halo entertained with a little variety with brighter hues and colors, tucked within his bag for another interval back towards home.
Rounding the corner though, he snorted in recognition of Astaroth nearby, having seem him just a week or so before along creative halls. Unaware of the sudden intervals and changes, save for the recent dreamscape and all its other thresholds, he nodded, granting the Ancient a small smile. “Afternoon – hope you are not picking up more bells.”
Rounding the corner though, he snorted in recognition of Astaroth nearby, having seem him just a week or so before along creative halls. Unaware of the sudden intervals and changes, save for the recent dreamscape and all its other thresholds, he nodded, granting the Ancient a small smile. “Afternoon – hope you are not picking up more bells.”
DEIMOS
