DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
It was easier to pretend the Flood didn’t exist; no longer involving himself in Ru’s endless relationship debacles, he would only hear the whispers of Sunjata’s latest poor choices on the wind. Others would comment on his methods – and the Sword would shake his head, clench his jaw, and wonder just how far things would flicker and fall apart before everyone else realized what he had long ago.
The only thing that changed his features at all was the mention of Kiada. A short interval of widened eyes, until they notched back into their narrowed haze. Quite frankly, he wouldn’t want the Harpy anywhere near this fiend, but with life spiraling around them at the moment, there was likely no avoiding it. Blankets and knives were not an issue. He could make those with a snap of his fingers.
The letter though. He couldn’t do that.
The monolith still made no movement. “What do you want for them?”
The only thing that changed his features at all was the mention of Kiada. A short interval of widened eyes, until they notched back into their narrowed haze. Quite frankly, he wouldn’t want the Harpy anywhere near this fiend, but with life spiraling around them at the moment, there was likely no avoiding it. Blankets and knives were not an issue. He could make those with a snap of his fingers.
The letter though. He couldn’t do that.
The monolith still made no movement. “What do you want for them?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
