DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
With Belial sulking intangibly on the ledge, Deimos could concentrate on the other measures and information being passed. He gave a brief smile at the earnestness, but then narrowed his eyes vaguely at the sentiments of the other seasonal deity being found. The last one, that he’d assisted with, had attempted to eat him, so the inclinations this one had been mildly different wasn’t as disconcerting. “Was there a certain kind of water?” Salt? Cold? Hot? Pondering over the reaches, he persisted in his analytical measures. “And where in the Sunshine Pools? I have never been to those parts.” Only to the boneyard, assaulting landsharks for amusement.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
my head is bloody, but unbowed
