DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Absorbed in his meticulous work, he’d barely heard Ru’s approach until the bond snagged at his mind – causing his head to bolt upright, dragging attention away from the books and tomes. “Ru,” he noted, the politeness instilled even amidst the frustration, eyes going from her and back to the matter at hand quickly; a fiend on the hunt.
A long sigh persisted, unfurled, continued, until he gestured towards the mass of journals before him. “Missing pages,” and though she probably wouldn’t find that an issue, something trivial and unimportant – based on the amount of diction before him, it would equate to a lot. “Cannot see if there is a pattern as to why,” and he shrugged his shoulders. “But I would like to find them.” There’d been a lot of work behind those details, inscriptions, and sketches.
A long sigh persisted, unfurled, continued, until he gestured towards the mass of journals before him. “Missing pages,” and though she probably wouldn’t find that an issue, something trivial and unimportant – based on the amount of diction before him, it would equate to a lot. “Cannot see if there is a pattern as to why,” and he shrugged his shoulders. “But I would like to find them.” There’d been a lot of work behind those details, inscriptions, and sketches.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
