DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Moving onward. Forward. He knew better, he truly did, but sometimes there were three steps onward and four back, and the reminders all the more grueling. The Hollowed Grounds was in his past too, and they had no way to outrun it. Just not to be consumed by it. Just not succumbed. Just not swallowed.
Growth. Healing. Renewal. That was what the mountains were for.
Moments like these – guilds and plans, forthcoming springs.
He snorted, shaking his head, before obliging to the swift demand, supplying her with portions of bread for the roads soon to be taken. “Come find me when you are ready.” And then there’d be new reaches to discover and unfurl, rather than new aches and pains.
{FIN <3}
Growth. Healing. Renewal. That was what the mountains were for.
Moments like these – guilds and plans, forthcoming springs.
He snorted, shaking his head, before obliging to the swift demand, supplying her with portions of bread for the roads soon to be taken. “Come find me when you are ready.” And then there’d be new reaches to discover and unfurl, rather than new aches and pains.
{FIN <3}
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
