DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He wasn’t surprised Morgan wanted to drop him off somewhere. Mostly everyone seemed determined to wipe their hands of him; and there was a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, as some deluded reality began to warp and take hold. Maybe they really did. Maybe he truly was as worthless, as useless, as ineffectual as he felt, and the ineptitude curled off of him in waves. Maybe there were beacons and sirens and alarms wailing off and ricocheting around him, bounding off his senses, his blood, that told the world he wasn’t worth anything at all.
The beast hung his head and nodded. Quieted and smothered, tired and dreadful, he permitted himself to be led along the streets by both unicorn and Warden, until he they came along the Temple walls. He shuddered at its sights, at its memories, but went within, a wave of his hand granted to the Halo sovereign, before retiring into another version of his own hell.
{FIN}
The beast hung his head and nodded. Quieted and smothered, tired and dreadful, he permitted himself to be led along the streets by both unicorn and Warden, until he they came along the Temple walls. He shuddered at its sights, at its memories, but went within, a wave of his hand granted to the Halo sovereign, before retiring into another version of his own hell.
{FIN}
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
