DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
The huff inspired a broad widening of his grin, boyish again, and then a laugh that echoed and resounded through lungs and against walls. Amused by the sentiments, and that she was amongst those who stood for survival rather than bullheaded audacity (he’d like to know, somewhere in the reaches of this world, just how many had wandered into the midst and come back out alive), he solidified everything within the sled. Then watched as she made her decision – restraining this bout of amusement for a snort as the bird was tossed within its other slaughtered brethren.
Belial made a chirping noise and moved over, somehow regaining his seat in the Sword’s movements and distractions, leaving a space for Chaele to decide where to place herself. While the General narrowed his gaze at the peryton for a moment, the inquiry made its way back in a volley; leaving him to shake his head, brow casually arching at the sapling she’d managed to snag. Presuming it was for some healing measures, he let the curiosity dissipate into his rumbling tones. “No. I have seen enough dragons.” Enough horrors, enough terrors, enough friends dying, enough pieces of ignorance blending into trauma, enough sieges on a Citadel that hadn’t deserved it.
But then, the mischief clambered back once more, perhaps an indication, a warning, as he grabbed hold of the rope and began to tug it out of the entrance, half a joke making its way past his mouth. “Would you prefer a leisurely stroll or a run?”
Belial made a chirping noise and moved over, somehow regaining his seat in the Sword’s movements and distractions, leaving a space for Chaele to decide where to place herself. While the General narrowed his gaze at the peryton for a moment, the inquiry made its way back in a volley; leaving him to shake his head, brow casually arching at the sapling she’d managed to snag. Presuming it was for some healing measures, he let the curiosity dissipate into his rumbling tones. “No. I have seen enough dragons.” Enough horrors, enough terrors, enough friends dying, enough pieces of ignorance blending into trauma, enough sieges on a Citadel that hadn’t deserved it.
But then, the mischief clambered back once more, perhaps an indication, a warning, as he grabbed hold of the rope and began to tug it out of the entrance, half a joke making its way past his mouth. “Would you prefer a leisurely stroll or a run?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
