DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He could hear the humming; and since he wasn’t one to even conjure the notions of such noises, all he did was roll canine eyes towards the ceiling. His nose tracked, his mind focused, curling and contorting along the bannister, winding his way down, down, down the stairs until coming to the foot of the worn wood, pausing as she found some. All right. Put them on the desk. They could take care of those remnants later.
Strange though – why wouldn’t they all be there? Why were they scattered?
Still uncertain, and mildly peeved, the Sword persisted in following after the same trail, but for some reason, it began unfurling along the walls of weaponry. Headed towards the armory.
Strange though – why wouldn’t they all be there? Why were they scattered?
Still uncertain, and mildly peeved, the Sword persisted in following after the same trail, but for some reason, it began unfurling along the walls of weaponry. Headed towards the armory.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
