DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos didn’t hide his grimace as Loren licked the gem in his hand, frowning mulishly as he wiped the residue off on his pants, then placed the artifact in the bag. Just one more display, one more show, one more piece of evidence that these moments had stretched into portions of nothingness. For all their efforts, it was a mere circumstance – an opportunity come and gone.
He grabbed hold of the satchel, tossing it along his shoulders once more, granting Zuriel an impassive look the unicorn seemed to register, maneuvering and matching strides to begin their walk back through the tunnels and caverns. The monolith did tilt his head back towards the lion, presuming he was following, the lines of fatigue and exhaustion wearing down into his own bones and mettle, the sickness cursing in debilitating alignments. A doorway? To what? Holes? Behind falls? He shook his head, and couldn’t make sense of any of it – not now. Perhaps they could all combine pieces and portions, leaving calculations to forefronts of minds put together. What about the metal?
He grabbed hold of the satchel, tossing it along his shoulders once more, granting Zuriel an impassive look the unicorn seemed to register, maneuvering and matching strides to begin their walk back through the tunnels and caverns. The monolith did tilt his head back towards the lion, presuming he was following, the lines of fatigue and exhaustion wearing down into his own bones and mettle, the sickness cursing in debilitating alignments. A doorway? To what? Holes? Behind falls? He shook his head, and couldn’t make sense of any of it – not now. Perhaps they could all combine pieces and portions, leaving calculations to forefronts of minds put together. What about the metal?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
