DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Upon acceptance, he passed Jigano a cup, and then went scrounging for another mug within the nearby cabinets. Still remaining well-stocked, preparations a key in his fastidious, meticulous lifestyle, the beast poured himself a cup, waiting for the eventual response from the Sage.
“A few weeks,” he muttered into the cup, raising it to his lips to sip, eyes narrowing only in brief calculations of intervals in time. Before Samuel had gone to Torchline, and subsequent letters sent back and forth between Amalia and her brother. Deimos made no mention of this either, not his place to unravel the Ascended’s decisions, and the complications, consequences, bombarded thereafter. Guilt raised its clawing potential in its wake anyway, because some of his actions had set it all into motion, and had he not gone to Samuel first, the entire situation may not have happened at all. He clenched his jaw for an instant, and then nothing more.
At least Jigano felt no need to delve into it now, going back and forth over more revelations and considerations of creation adornments. “I have not tried.” The truth, he’d been prone to not using it exclusively or bonding it to another incantation until recently; uncertain if it’d be capable. Speculation conspired and rolled though; because if it could wind around earth, and fire, why not water or life drain?
And what would come of it? The latter, his best, most familiar enchantments, could only bring siege, destruction, and a siphoning of strength, vitality, life. Mixed and combined with water? A feral snort meandered through, echoing along the barracks’ chambers. “Do you have need of poisons?”
“A few weeks,” he muttered into the cup, raising it to his lips to sip, eyes narrowing only in brief calculations of intervals in time. Before Samuel had gone to Torchline, and subsequent letters sent back and forth between Amalia and her brother. Deimos made no mention of this either, not his place to unravel the Ascended’s decisions, and the complications, consequences, bombarded thereafter. Guilt raised its clawing potential in its wake anyway, because some of his actions had set it all into motion, and had he not gone to Samuel first, the entire situation may not have happened at all. He clenched his jaw for an instant, and then nothing more.
At least Jigano felt no need to delve into it now, going back and forth over more revelations and considerations of creation adornments. “I have not tried.” The truth, he’d been prone to not using it exclusively or bonding it to another incantation until recently; uncertain if it’d be capable. Speculation conspired and rolled though; because if it could wind around earth, and fire, why not water or life drain?
And what would come of it? The latter, his best, most familiar enchantments, could only bring siege, destruction, and a siphoning of strength, vitality, life. Mixed and combined with water? A feral snort meandered through, echoing along the barracks’ chambers. “Do you have need of poisons?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
