Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
The Sword expected monsters, demons, some other form of infidels: instead, upon wings, tails, and feathers, a griffin descended directly in his path (seemingly quite content), Sunjata following close behind. For a moment, his brows arched, a singular movement and sensation, before righting themselves back to their stoic properties. “Sunjata,” he proffered, an extension of greeting with a nod of acknowledgment, bending downwards to offer a pat to the companion. His attention didn’t deviate from the griffin, for now at least, discourse still managing to meander towards the other man – uncertain of how to broach particular subjects, while one was reeling and the other sinking. “I need an efas herb,” by way of shrugging and explanation, not offering or saying anything more unless the attuned was curious; straightening back out, intending to proceed down into warren routes, procuring a branch nearby and lighting the top as a makeshift torch. “How was the wedding?” A conversation starter as he roamed further in, the invitation silent, turning the first corner, staring into the void and the abyss, listening for any roaming dilemmas and tremors.
DEIMOS
