DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
With treats extended, Belial accepting his swiftly with a fanged grin and sneaky, seditious glance towards the dragon, the Sword snorted. “Perhaps it would be best to let them release their energy along the Tundra.” His eyes glanced upwards, surveying the sun’s position, allotting for a decent amount of time – and wanting an excuse to race along himself. While they were free to thrive around the barracks, Deimos also had no inclinations in overstaying his welcome – considering no role had been offered to him yet.
On that note, with the peryton still tucked under his arm, he marched towards the outer gate, letting them out, the training upheld, the techniques shared, and more insights into companions shared. And perhaps, relief at being home.
{FIN}
On that note, with the peryton still tucked under his arm, he marched towards the outer gate, letting them out, the training upheld, the techniques shared, and more insights into companions shared. And perhaps, relief at being home.
{FIN}
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
