DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
“That praise will go straight to his head,” and sure enough, because Deimos apparently only bonded to arrogant, conceited creatures, Belial straightened up as if he’d just conquered an entire kingdom.
Which altered and changed the moment the peryton’s eyes landed on the dragon. Pinpointed, narrowed, and immediately thinking about launching (to attack, to play?), his form took on a pouncing notion, and the Sword snagged around his middle before he could even begin his siege. Tucking the deer under his arm like a toy, unfortunately a habitual practice, he sighed, while Belial opted to display a very nice set of fangs towards the dog and flying lizard, though striving to stretch out, sniffing the courier’s hand for anything. “Jerky, mostly.”
Which altered and changed the moment the peryton’s eyes landed on the dragon. Pinpointed, narrowed, and immediately thinking about launching (to attack, to play?), his form took on a pouncing notion, and the Sword snagged around his middle before he could even begin his siege. Tucking the deer under his arm like a toy, unfortunately a habitual practice, he sighed, while Belial opted to display a very nice set of fangs towards the dog and flying lizard, though striving to stretch out, sniffing the courier’s hand for anything. “Jerky, mostly.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
