DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
It likely wasn’t Noah’s fault, but the notions still clung around in rampant irritation, leveling along his shoulders until he took another breath. Something about being left behind, about abandonment, about things much larger than this moment screeched and toiled around his mind; but he nodded, taking the words for what they were worth. “You are forgiven,” came with a semblance of a nod, and maybe the stokings of seeing if actions and words would prove true.
There were other things to deal with anyway. Though his other inquiries weren’t answered, maybe the Sentinel didn’t know, and Deimos had his own means of figuring them out, the notions about Morgan were enough to distract him. Possibilities, parameters, and then the inkling of rewards – motions made when sentiments were rung out. The emboldened potential of a notice on a board, of some way of letting the public know exactly where the Glacier stood amidst her lies, made his brows rise slightly, then slowly furrow back down. The compass was a valuable tool – and could be utilized well, swiftly, quickly. The machinations already tilted, grasped hold, even as his arms remained crossed. “Do you want to borrow my cloak? Or I can make one for you.” Sneaky, dubious, and deceptive – enough to grant the moments necessary to post and proceed.
He recognized the other item, the amulet, instantly, given he’d been amongst the trio to help extinguish the basilisk’s life. “The one from the Peepholes.” Power and precision in the might and breadth of a giant serpent.
There were other things to deal with anyway. Though his other inquiries weren’t answered, maybe the Sentinel didn’t know, and Deimos had his own means of figuring them out, the notions about Morgan were enough to distract him. Possibilities, parameters, and then the inkling of rewards – motions made when sentiments were rung out. The emboldened potential of a notice on a board, of some way of letting the public know exactly where the Glacier stood amidst her lies, made his brows rise slightly, then slowly furrow back down. The compass was a valuable tool – and could be utilized well, swiftly, quickly. The machinations already tilted, grasped hold, even as his arms remained crossed. “Do you want to borrow my cloak? Or I can make one for you.” Sneaky, dubious, and deceptive – enough to grant the moments necessary to post and proceed.
He recognized the other item, the amulet, instantly, given he’d been amongst the trio to help extinguish the basilisk’s life. “The one from the Peepholes.” Power and precision in the might and breadth of a giant serpent.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
