DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
There were some deeper roots embedded, and while Deimos wouldn’t pry, his eyes narrowed. Much too used to scrutinizing one’s adversaries and enemies, it’d become a trait to study even the most subtle of movements; and there seemed to be layers of other notions stuck in between. Instead of making the situation even more awkward, he offered his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Tal.” Thereafter, he tucked the letter into a pocket, intending to respond when he had a free moment.
Crouching to begin picking up the pieces, for they were likely destined for the closest hearth, he missed the admiring tilt, but not the way the question lingered and loitered. His gaze notched over the edges of his shoulders, watching the younger man for an instant, before rising back to his great height, and wandering over to one of the fires. “Yes,” he pronounced briefly, by way of amusement and reticence, though there was a slight flicker of a grin, as if he knew he was being intentionally vague and irritating. “It comes from experience, time, and practice.” And some measure of skill, he supposed. Considering the courier was likely a Natural, he tilted his head, trying to place any other familiarity within. “Was your father a soldier?”
Crouching to begin picking up the pieces, for they were likely destined for the closest hearth, he missed the admiring tilt, but not the way the question lingered and loitered. His gaze notched over the edges of his shoulders, watching the younger man for an instant, before rising back to his great height, and wandering over to one of the fires. “Yes,” he pronounced briefly, by way of amusement and reticence, though there was a slight flicker of a grin, as if he knew he was being intentionally vague and irritating. “It comes from experience, time, and practice.” And some measure of skill, he supposed. Considering the courier was likely a Natural, he tilted his head, trying to place any other familiarity within. “Was your father a soldier?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
