DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
The unicorn had long since been accustomed to presiding in her healing proportions. Whether or not it was adhering to Deimos’ multitude of injuries over the years, or simply mending those close to him, she bowed her head, and rendered her abilities with a soothing, assuaging ease. Her horn glowed, the blue hues winding along in a pleasant refrain, and while she worked, the Sword could only fold his arms over his chest, watch her efforts. The smile that appeared, barely etched on his features, only managed to materialize as the levels of danger diminished, leaving the course of apprehension to filter and flicker away from his soul. “Quite a few of us do.” Fondness for the mare persisted, a shrug to his shoulders coursing through. “Luckily, she usually settles her debts with treats.” Zuriel responded with a snort, before stepping away, proportions of her incantations finished.
And then the remnants of his grin were gone, for Noah’s words were distinctly that: a lot.
Many machinations ran over the motions in his mind, and he forced himself to ease a long, slow breath from his lungs as each was evaluated in turn. Being left behind, as they stretched out towards Halo, earned the Sentinel a flickering frown, some measure of disappointment he couldn’t quite quantify. “You know I would have been willing to help.” Maybe the measure wasn’t even for Noah, but he had nothing else to relinquish.
Besides, there were other notions to consider as the tale maneuvered on: the Eirachi (why would they even think to ask for her assistance, after everything he’d heard about Neron and Zariah’s actions?), the Ascended (Kiada included, and he didn’t hide the hurt that seemed to puncture and bruise within), and Morgan, before everything seemed to come tumbling down. The Sword stayed quiet and still for a moment, save for a few glances upwards, as if reaching in, striving to understand which notions were better to correspond to – other than frustration. “I am glad you survived,” was the first portion out of his mouth, because that should’ve been the most important piece. “What about Kiada?” If he knew at all; and he didn’t care about the rest. Then a multitude of others pressed against his spine, over his calculations, until ultimately they spurned onward, one by one, hopefully not driving Noah into further vexation. “Did you end up with the relic?” Who had it now? It clearly hadn’t been as easy as the last trip – and he wrinkled his nose, very boyishly, at the last inquiry. “And how can we use this against Morgan?”
Because she’d shown her true colors, yet again.
And then the remnants of his grin were gone, for Noah’s words were distinctly that: a lot.
Many machinations ran over the motions in his mind, and he forced himself to ease a long, slow breath from his lungs as each was evaluated in turn. Being left behind, as they stretched out towards Halo, earned the Sentinel a flickering frown, some measure of disappointment he couldn’t quite quantify. “You know I would have been willing to help.” Maybe the measure wasn’t even for Noah, but he had nothing else to relinquish.
Besides, there were other notions to consider as the tale maneuvered on: the Eirachi (why would they even think to ask for her assistance, after everything he’d heard about Neron and Zariah’s actions?), the Ascended (Kiada included, and he didn’t hide the hurt that seemed to puncture and bruise within), and Morgan, before everything seemed to come tumbling down. The Sword stayed quiet and still for a moment, save for a few glances upwards, as if reaching in, striving to understand which notions were better to correspond to – other than frustration. “I am glad you survived,” was the first portion out of his mouth, because that should’ve been the most important piece. “What about Kiada?” If he knew at all; and he didn’t care about the rest. Then a multitude of others pressed against his spine, over his calculations, until ultimately they spurned onward, one by one, hopefully not driving Noah into further vexation. “Did you end up with the relic?” Who had it now? It clearly hadn’t been as easy as the last trip – and he wrinkled his nose, very boyishly, at the last inquiry. “And how can we use this against Morgan?”
Because she’d shown her true colors, yet again.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
