DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Simultaneous processes continued and persisted, a tilt to his head, and fabric unfurling under his grip. Eventually the item was to Noah’s size, hues darkening as it stretched downward and along the sand for a moment, while the Sword fixated on the magic needing to flow through it. Invisibility, the art of covert operations, of sliding and slinking, of furtive divinations, pulsed and pervaded, until eventually, it all came together. Thereafter, with a small, modest smile, he handed it over to the Sentinel.
In regards to the other subject matter, though he’d given thoughts on the notions before as possibilities, as particulars, he hadn’t ventured into that course as of yet. Perhaps Deimos needed to voice his machinations as well, rare though it may be. “I am not certain how we would do so. Have you heard of anyone else accomplishing such a thing?” Hadn’t there been a group that tried in Torchline? There’d been glimmers of a rumor corresponding here and there, but no actual, factual evidence came to his mind. The speculations continued, his head lifting, eyes flickering off along the surroundings, pinpointing on Zuriel for a moment. “Sah went with Wessex to see the Voice.” He’d believed it incredibly foolish then, and did now, but there was advantageous potential lacquered in the midst. “He could lead us there.” Whether he was willing or not might have been another thing altogether.
And he was in full agreement that the mountains needed to know of Morgan’s involvement, yet again, in roles that weren’t neutral. Spiraling on her lies. Conforming to everything they’d known. “What were you thinking of doing?”
--
Deimos has made:
Type: Grey
Invisibility Cloak | Ornate, detailed cloak, that when worn, renders an individual invisible.
In regards to the other subject matter, though he’d given thoughts on the notions before as possibilities, as particulars, he hadn’t ventured into that course as of yet. Perhaps Deimos needed to voice his machinations as well, rare though it may be. “I am not certain how we would do so. Have you heard of anyone else accomplishing such a thing?” Hadn’t there been a group that tried in Torchline? There’d been glimmers of a rumor corresponding here and there, but no actual, factual evidence came to his mind. The speculations continued, his head lifting, eyes flickering off along the surroundings, pinpointing on Zuriel for a moment. “Sah went with Wessex to see the Voice.” He’d believed it incredibly foolish then, and did now, but there was advantageous potential lacquered in the midst. “He could lead us there.” Whether he was willing or not might have been another thing altogether.
And he was in full agreement that the mountains needed to know of Morgan’s involvement, yet again, in roles that weren’t neutral. Spiraling on her lies. Conforming to everything they’d known. “What were you thinking of doing?”
--
Deimos has made:
Type: Grey
Invisibility Cloak | Ornate, detailed cloak, that when worn, renders an individual invisible.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
