DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Zuriel tilted her head at the luxere, calm and composed, attempting to mitigate and cease any further dramatics – the Sword had had enough as of late, and the rarely-seen overprotective qualities of the mare had been pervading throughout the season past. She wasn’t certain what Astra needed or required, other than staring, so she consolidated the efforts with a brief snort, following along lantern lights as they went further and further into the dark.
The inquiries marched along as they wandered into another section of the darkened terrain – and raising the light, piercing through with Attuned complexities, there appeared to be another section of pathways; conveniently three, and Deimos was reminded briefly of the Labyrinth, with its intertwining roots and cataclysms. So far, there’d been nothing dramatic or life-altering; a relief. “Your turn to choose.” His head gestured in the general directions, indifferent as to which, when there was no sign or indication of anything in particular exuding from either cavern.
“I think they came from whatever land is beyond the storm.” But with the elemental reaches in place, there’d been no plausible way to get them through – even if they had come underground with them, he would’ve spent a majority of his time digging, tunneling, and not getting anywhere closer. Exhaustion would’ve crept in long before they’d ever had an opportunity to do much else.
The inquiries marched along as they wandered into another section of the darkened terrain – and raising the light, piercing through with Attuned complexities, there appeared to be another section of pathways; conveniently three, and Deimos was reminded briefly of the Labyrinth, with its intertwining roots and cataclysms. So far, there’d been nothing dramatic or life-altering; a relief. “Your turn to choose.” His head gestured in the general directions, indifferent as to which, when there was no sign or indication of anything in particular exuding from either cavern.
“I think they came from whatever land is beyond the storm.” But with the elemental reaches in place, there’d been no plausible way to get them through – even if they had come underground with them, he would’ve spent a majority of his time digging, tunneling, and not getting anywhere closer. Exhaustion would’ve crept in long before they’d ever had an opportunity to do much else.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
