[se] evolve or repeat

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

His eyes remained on the outcropping of the wall, already contemplating edges of reinforcement and how much wider, stronger, and broader they could make it. If the gates could meet the same fate, if the notions of intrusions from the ground would be a thing of the past. At the question, Deimos sighed, gaze flicking back to the catapults and their wheeling schisms. “We cannot possibly prepare for everything,” despite the Sword’s clear, stalwart intentions. “But we have been training under multitudes of elements and weaponry.” It would be whether they were caught by surprise or not that would make a vast difference. “And the watchtower provides visibility, along with the snowflake phones.” Communication – so they could funnel and channel the warriors within the range. There was the solar beam as well.

His stare finally rested back upon Talyson, stoic and firm. “And we fight and defend the best we can.” The way Halovians had always carved their way along the doldrums and chaos.

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead

Maybe they couldn't prepare for everything, but they'd certainly prepared for a lot. Deimos was right about how much training everyone had been doing and Tal instinctively glanced towards the Watchtower when it was mentioned, puffing up with a little bit of pride. That, at least, was something he'd been able to contribute to and he grinned at the reminder of the snowflakes that Deimos had made.

"Well, when you put it like that..." His grin wavered and faded at the reminder of how his father had died, but Tal swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded firmly. "Yeah. As best we can." Boreal dove to land in the snow nearby, kicking up some loose powder and shaking it off before trotting over to nudge her companion's side with a reassuring croon. Tal patted her head distractedly and flashed her a small smile.

"Yeah, you're right girl. I'd better get started on the afternoon deliveries. An' Deimos? Thanks. For lettin' me fire the catapult!" With a wave of farewell the courier headed back into town to continue his rounds.

~Fin~