DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
There was an ease to his shoulders, down the length of his spine, as Noah insisted he didn’t fully trust the Order. They shouldn’t, based off of things he’d heard. People he’d come across. “I met one member before. Gideon, I believe. The Priest.” He paused, considered the shrine before him for a moment, casting another long breath. “He was very vocal about his beliefs in the Ascended.” About machines. About them not being people.
Except Deimos didn’t believe that – not when he’d had Rexanna, Kiada, and so many others.
The notions of the elementals, of something beneath the ice, made him raise his head, back to speculations and experiences. “We came across a creature below the surface once, but had no means to communicate with it. Safrin said it was ancient.” And some part of him wondered if that was going to be the being they faced – a slight frown mulling over his features.
Except Deimos didn’t believe that – not when he’d had Rexanna, Kiada, and so many others.
The notions of the elementals, of something beneath the ice, made him raise his head, back to speculations and experiences. “We came across a creature below the surface once, but had no means to communicate with it. Safrin said it was ancient.” And some part of him wondered if that was going to be the being they faced – a slight frown mulling over his features.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
