Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
The heat flared up against his skin, and he couldn’t recall, remember a time when he’d felt so physically wretched. Mental exhaustion was one thing, but the ache in his bones was something not drawn from fatigue, but like that of some sickness he hadn’t had since he was a child. The morning sun felt like a vice, the press of summer like a noose, and at the same time, all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball beside the hearth in his home, like a cat, drawn into the flames.
The bizarre fixations along the corner of his eyes were no better – and he might’ve thought them ghosts. Each shift of his head brought on more aches and pains though, so he didn’t follow their lines and auras for long, trying to shift one foot in front of the other, heading towards the shrine, single-minded in his pursuits.
Because at least he had this – the information Safrin had told him to gain, in order to re-forge that damned door into something worthwhile for LongNight.
He made it to the sanctum and bowed his head, for that hurt far less, and he could stare at the ground while he attempted to collect himself. The wraiths nearby had started humming, and then he realized it was a drumming sound (calling him home? To war?).
Struggling and striving for composure, the monolith stood unsteadily, mouthing the words, as if he required practice, before finally giving them the rumbling vocals. “Safrin, I have spoken with individuals about the weapon.” The door, the sword, they all blurred together – and maybe they were one and the same, when all was said and done.
--
Turning in quest given here: centuries deep
Spoke about the sword/door for evil: expect silence
Spoke with one who would destroy it: where did you come by all of those burdens?
Spoke with one who would use it for good: always prepared
The bizarre fixations along the corner of his eyes were no better – and he might’ve thought them ghosts. Each shift of his head brought on more aches and pains though, so he didn’t follow their lines and auras for long, trying to shift one foot in front of the other, heading towards the shrine, single-minded in his pursuits.
Because at least he had this – the information Safrin had told him to gain, in order to re-forge that damned door into something worthwhile for LongNight.
He made it to the sanctum and bowed his head, for that hurt far less, and he could stare at the ground while he attempted to collect himself. The wraiths nearby had started humming, and then he realized it was a drumming sound (calling him home? To war?).
Struggling and striving for composure, the monolith stood unsteadily, mouthing the words, as if he required practice, before finally giving them the rumbling vocals. “Safrin, I have spoken with individuals about the weapon.” The door, the sword, they all blurred together – and maybe they were one and the same, when all was said and done.
--
Turning in quest given here: centuries deep
Spoke about the sword/door for evil: expect silence
Spoke with one who would destroy it: where did you come by all of those burdens?
Spoke with one who would use it for good: always prepared
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
