Deimos
THE RESURRECTED SWORD
How did you survive? they ask
How long did you suffer?
how dark did they tint your dreams?The Sword had had enough of caves and underground fathoms for a lifetime. It wasn’t consternation or apprehension at the notions of the gaping abyss, but the foreboding, the nuances of everything else he’d ever encountered in networks of warrens, caverns, and basements. Considering they were searching for a dragon, it was highly likely that a conflagration was on its way, no matter how any of them intended to calculate, defend, or siege. A mental preparation for the onslaught curled through his spine, rigid and taut while he carried and listened, while he breathed calm and composure in an enigmatic, unearthly distinction, awaiting some oncoming battle, some vicious slate beneath and throughout twists and turns. If it didn’t amount to any of those things, he wouldn’t be disappointed either (but damn, he knew better).
He used his silence to observe, for piercing eyes to glance over marks in soil, along walls, or anything else in between, advancing along towards the intervals, marching towards their descent.
--
Deimos takes a look at the cavern floor and walls for any signs/clues!
He used his silence to observe, for piercing eyes to glance over marks in soil, along walls, or anything else in between, advancing along towards the intervals, marching towards their descent.
--
Deimos takes a look at the cavern floor and walls for any signs/clues!
- until you had blood glistening on your teeth
- until your suffering paled in comparison to their own
- until you learned to enjoy the sounds of screams
