DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
“Drunken buffoon would not have sufficed either,” and he gave a shrug, indicating he wasn’t bothered by the lack of details – more so the actions behind why he had to hunt the other man down.
So his own gaze searched and hunted the perimeter, gazing along circles and portions of crowds, taking scrutiny of various tables, before moving on to the others. But, not yearning to be rude, he also took notice of the older woman herself, a stranger to him, and the semblance of her own trials and tribulations – he presumed, attributed to age. “Do you have something that could aid you?” Glasses seemed to be a common thing around these parts, and likely easy to make.
His stare flickered to another table, narrowing suspiciously at the way one individual seemed to be clinging purposefully to the shadows, and then the rumble of his tones persisted. “My apologies, I do not think we have met. I am Deimos.” Following through, he extended his rough, calloused hand by way of introduction.
So his own gaze searched and hunted the perimeter, gazing along circles and portions of crowds, taking scrutiny of various tables, before moving on to the others. But, not yearning to be rude, he also took notice of the older woman herself, a stranger to him, and the semblance of her own trials and tribulations – he presumed, attributed to age. “Do you have something that could aid you?” Glasses seemed to be a common thing around these parts, and likely easy to make.
His stare flickered to another table, narrowing suspiciously at the way one individual seemed to be clinging purposefully to the shadows, and then the rumble of his tones persisted. “My apologies, I do not think we have met. I am Deimos.” Following through, he extended his rough, calloused hand by way of introduction.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
