DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Dusk pervaded the landscape by the time he’d finished up within the barracks; maneuvering targets back into place for trainings set for the upcoming day, shuffling, rearranging schedule for individualized work, and then ensuring the climbing wall was still faceted and rigged for its purpose. He’d meant to be done much sooner, make way for evenings by fires and nothingness; but those sentiments and notions had been derailed by several other warriors incapable of making their marks sufficiently.
So Deimos marched, eyes inclined towards the setting sun, and hoping the market kiosks hadn’t closed up yet. Bag of holding over his shoulder, a couple meats meant to be haggled and bartered away for some other game (even the monolith got bored with ningo after a time) contained within, and with Belial for company, drifting alongside rather than overhead, he made his way down the streets.
Familiar and accustomed as they were, he nodded towards several familiar faces as they passed, and then notched the foundation of recognition over the figure of the Harpy nearby. “Kiada,” he rumbled, not meaning to distract her from whatever he was intending to accomplish, but the conversation with Sunjata still remained in the back of his mind. Perhaps not the best time – but there likely wasn’t ever going to be a better moment.
So Deimos marched, eyes inclined towards the setting sun, and hoping the market kiosks hadn’t closed up yet. Bag of holding over his shoulder, a couple meats meant to be haggled and bartered away for some other game (even the monolith got bored with ningo after a time) contained within, and with Belial for company, drifting alongside rather than overhead, he made his way down the streets.
Familiar and accustomed as they were, he nodded towards several familiar faces as they passed, and then notched the foundation of recognition over the figure of the Harpy nearby. “Kiada,” he rumbled, not meaning to distract her from whatever he was intending to accomplish, but the conversation with Sunjata still remained in the back of his mind. Perhaps not the best time – but there likely wasn’t ever going to be a better moment.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
