who we are and all that we're trying to be
If Sunjata were to tell him to leave, based on prior occurrences and experiences, the hellhound wouldn’t have been surprised. When a thank you came instead, the beast nodded, his attention deviated towards the incoming animal – a luxere – and he only knew who it was based on the other rumbling sibilances and sounds. Ronin, he extended with a nod, leaving the jocular machinations off and away; focus on the directions, on what was to come, on what was necessary.
Digging drainage sections and ditches to cease flooding – sensical (a surprise, given Deimos’ track record with Sunjata’s incidents) - and his gaze went out towards the sea first. The Tides hadn’t had much in the way of flooding, but they’d also never orchestrated canals to rumble and ramble through cities, and he couldn’t recall anything by way of merfolk. Instead, they’d had the powerful, potent undulations of the ocean, giving it the ample respect it was due, and striving to be equal forces within its ebb and flow.
The massive canine maneuvered thereafter, eyes sharpening on the marked contortions, and motions of might, distinction, and strength maneuvered, picking along one of the spaces. His paws sunk diligently into the soil, claws rapaciously itching their way over the earth, intending to dig, dig, dig, precision and fortitude placed into each twinge of his muscled limbs.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
