DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Had Deimos known of the reasoning behind not scorching other measures and elements, there would’ve been a rumble, roll of his eyes, and some lecture embedded in between – so maybe it was wise of Talyson to withhold his regards. Instead, the Sword was free to immerse and regale calculations liberated of those stupefying notions, maneuvering another wooden piece under his prowess and power. “So go from there. What would be most beneficial? What do you want it to do?” The Warden could offer endless options, but he’d always encouraged thought and independence from anyone and everyone around him.
With the downcast acceptance, the monolith snorted, gesturing with his head towards a trio of soldiers wrestling with first catapult's basket handle – probably because they’d yet to notice an invisible peryton sitting in it, biding his time. “They may need help other there. Something stuck, probably.”
With the downcast acceptance, the monolith snorted, gesturing with his head towards a trio of soldiers wrestling with first catapult's basket handle – probably because they’d yet to notice an invisible peryton sitting in it, biding his time. “They may need help other there. Something stuck, probably.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
