DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos had been in the area, assisting with a variety of tasks throughout the Deepfrost’s reign; a time for some manner of penance, reparations, and damage control. After helping with Juniper, and extending whatever necessities there, there’d been note of a skyport being hastened and built along the Observatory. He hadn’t been witness to any being built; Halo hadn’t had any in its isolated sanction. Curiosity compelled, and if they required more aid, he was already there – figuring his magic and skills might be of some use.
Permitting his companions to stay out of the way, he went to join those already there, granting a nod to each by way of greeting. “I can help, if you still need some,” he gestured and rumbled to Ronin and the assembled crew. If not, he could always be on his way, and there’d be no offense taken.
Permitting his companions to stay out of the way, he went to join those already there, granting a nod to each by way of greeting. “I can help, if you still need some,” he gestured and rumbled to Ronin and the assembled crew. If not, he could always be on his way, and there’d be no offense taken.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
