DEIMOS
They believe nothing can reach us
And pull us out of the boundless gloom
And pull us out of the boundless gloom
He listened, working quietly, curious about Remi’s efforts – disguising doors, pretenses and charades, everything a guessing game for some unsuspecting individual until it was too late. His machinations meandered around the world of masquerades and duplicities, values he’d contorted within: but his were more of the undermining schemes, the machinations, the calculations in their meticulous orchestrations. These could be appreciated as well though – days of sound-proof tents and furtive caverns, temples designed to hide – no longer in the mountains, in the summits, but some of the gestures were still the same, alive and well in other human beings. The laws of deceit and deception always managed to survive.
While Wessex contemplated Remi’s next movements, she administered the Reaper’s in silence – he followed through on the notion, switching places, holding it firm, in place, while she tied wire along it. When she completed her portion, he let go, waiting to see if worked, held itself, waiting for a bombardment to signal its alarm.
While Wessex contemplated Remi’s next movements, she administered the Reaper’s in silence – he followed through on the notion, switching places, holding it firm, in place, while she tied wire along it. When she completed her portion, he let go, waiting to see if worked, held itself, waiting for a bombardment to signal its alarm.
They're wrong
