DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Breaking the otherwise stoic features, the Warden shook his head, waiting for Zuriel to approach his side, and snagging at the packs notched along her saddle. Pulling a towel from its depths, he tossed it over to the woman, before casting his gaze towards the intermittent range of mist and fog, waiting for Belial to approach. And probably giving her a moment of privacy, to collect herself in the shambles of chaotic events – for that was the thing with Caido and trauma in tandem units – the world seemed to think one simply moved on.
And they did, in a way, with every passing breath some substantial hold on survival.
As the peryton soared in and landed with a raucous hoot, the Sword rolled his eyes, but supplied the carnivorous deer with a bounty of snacks and pats for his predacious efforts, before turning his attention back to inquiries and statements. “You are welcome.” Crouching towards his other companion, and inspecting for any wounds, the answer to the question came along simple and succinct. “A Ceffyl Dŵr. They are known for enticing people to ride them, and then drop the unsuspecting individuals to their death.”
And they did, in a way, with every passing breath some substantial hold on survival.
As the peryton soared in and landed with a raucous hoot, the Sword rolled his eyes, but supplied the carnivorous deer with a bounty of snacks and pats for his predacious efforts, before turning his attention back to inquiries and statements. “You are welcome.” Crouching towards his other companion, and inspecting for any wounds, the answer to the question came along simple and succinct. “A Ceffyl Dŵr. They are known for enticing people to ride them, and then drop the unsuspecting individuals to their death.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
