Deimos
The Sword wouldn’t ask the Sentinel what he saw. The trauma had likely been enough to warrant never repeating – even if the cycle persisted, even if dreams altered to nightmares, even if haunting dirges always caught up to them in the end. Instead, he worked his incantations over the broken bombardments, following lines of battered proportions until it felt like something feasible again.
But a glance towards Noah once more told him entirely too much, and he extended the happenstance by not mentioning the sorrow, the sadness, the aches and pains. “Luck. Power. Strength.” A repetition of all of them, cycling through their bones and lancing along their fortitude. Trying to pry away the notions of hell and the spinning misery, he opted for something else. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
But a glance towards Noah once more told him entirely too much, and he extended the happenstance by not mentioning the sorrow, the sadness, the aches and pains. “Luck. Power. Strength.” A repetition of all of them, cycling through their bones and lancing along their fortitude. Trying to pry away the notions of hell and the spinning misery, he opted for something else. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
we exhume our enemy's bones
we are battling, hungry beasts
we are battling, hungry beasts
