DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
It was with quiet relief that his figure settled, content to mull and muse about with a friend, either amidst gossip or congratulatory whims, even if it hovered just on the edge of boundaries neither likely craved to cross. Noah being worried didn’t seem like a usual sentiment, but given what loomed on the horizon for many of them, he comprehended the emotions. The apprehension stuck fast to his own ribs too, for a multitude of reasons. “Understandable.” And he put it in the back of his mind as another rationale for ensuring the Sentinel made it back in one piece – other, greater, grander things in store. “Let me know if you need anything.” He couldn’t quite help the glimmer of a snicker; some schemes already worn into his mind simply way by of debauched tradition.
His head tilted at the notions of a favor, but considering how often he committed those things for everyone around him, he drew silent, listening. Deimos didn’t expect Sunjata’s name to come across her lips, but the instant drew a furrowed brow, a semblance of belligerence lurking under the surface. “You were likely better off.” And while his speech could have easily spun into a litany of inducements to the claim, he snagged at the other whims instead – for Cordelia, much like Evie, Sah, and the rest, would be here to defend their home.
A roll of his shoulders justified the response. “It is fine. You can ask. We can call it an engagement gift.” His nose wrinkled with another small smile, weighing out options. “Do you want any magic in particular?”
His head tilted at the notions of a favor, but considering how often he committed those things for everyone around him, he drew silent, listening. Deimos didn’t expect Sunjata’s name to come across her lips, but the instant drew a furrowed brow, a semblance of belligerence lurking under the surface. “You were likely better off.” And while his speech could have easily spun into a litany of inducements to the claim, he snagged at the other whims instead – for Cordelia, much like Evie, Sah, and the rest, would be here to defend their home.
A roll of his shoulders justified the response. “It is fine. You can ask. We can call it an engagement gift.” His nose wrinkled with another small smile, weighing out options. “Do you want any magic in particular?”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
