DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
With Zuriel and Belial safely out of range, and then Juniper extricated from the wicker woman’s clutches, Deimos released the sigh, the apprehension, threatening to buoy its way out of his throat. He proceeded cautiously, intending to remain well out of the scope of the tree’s limbs, but close enough to ascertain the Fae’s findings. The man nodded, gazing at the vine. “Do you have enough for your task?” Careful, speculating, and calculating as always, the Sword narrowed his eyes, watching as wings flickered, fluttered, and then she hovered along in a strange bout of sudden sorrow.
He tilted his head at the notions, and then stole another long breath. “Let me see what I can do.” A predator in his own right, he understood the implications behind the matter. Perhaps the feline had been wandering around, hoping for an opportunity to find and capture its own prey – and had been snagged and snared in the process.
Once more, he unfurled the layers of his Earth enchantments, intending to bend, pull, twist, and maneuver branches and vines out of the way, to secure freedom for one more wild creature living amongst the forest.
He tilted his head at the notions, and then stole another long breath. “Let me see what I can do.” A predator in his own right, he understood the implications behind the matter. Perhaps the feline had been wandering around, hoping for an opportunity to find and capture its own prey – and had been snagged and snared in the process.
Once more, he unfurled the layers of his Earth enchantments, intending to bend, pull, twist, and maneuver branches and vines out of the way, to secure freedom for one more wild creature living amongst the forest.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
