{se} hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Whoa, you let your feet run wild

Time has come as we all go down

Deimos, ever the pragmatic, stared upwards at the sunlit sky, and then back to the ground. “It would require a vast amount of resources and power.” A means to tunnel under the earth without it falling around them. A measure of food and water. Shelter that could be maintained, sustained, even as the above proportions sizzled and smoldered away into nothing. He arched his brow – only vaguely familiar with the depths of the caverns within Torchline, or the watery veins intermingling through the region. Enough to know an appeal to Safrin had been made for the canals, at the very least. “Then you have the landsharks to contend with.” The Sword offered her another grin – not to purposefully ruin her fanciful, imaginative construction, but he certainly didn’t help in building it.

Dragging the Dragon’s Throat though was far more appealing than a skeletal region below. Bemused, offering another smile for her thievery, the deep rumble continued as they circled around another set of skulls – perhaps old dragons, if the shapes bore any resemblance. “Did you ever use them?” Out of spite, because she could? The last insinuation didn’t surprise him at all – offering one more laugh to bounce off bleached bones. “Of course you did.” Then his brows furrowed slightly, reminded all the more of his own time as a prisoner, which hadn’t been humorous or entertaining. “Anything of worth?”

Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—

Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?

DEIMOS