DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Deimos gave her a solitary nod; the intent having been there long before. The Sentinel and Sword had been mutual in their exchanges of safety and shelter; Noah the first, from the times of sickness, until they seemed to balance out the scales. A flicker of a smile rested in between the unsaid sentiments. “And you keep Halo safe for us,” he winked, but meant it just the same.
He could’ve said more on Sunjata, but preferred not tainting the entire evening with that oaf’s presence – besides, he always had ready made targets of the idiot if Cordelia wanted to fire a few rounds into his face – tilting his head to listen to her request. “Fire is always potent,” and one of his favorite elements for that very reason. His eyes went towards the bow offered and extended, and based on her words, held it with a quiet reverence. “All right, give me a moment.”
Focus layered amidst his brows, concentration honing in on the gilded incantations and enchantments beginning to pool through his palms. They never resisted, but rested, firmly and strongly, along the enamel of precious wood, spilling forth in great waves and curtains; flames embedded, measured through, until the time she snapped the strand, an arrow would ignite, filling the void with more power, more prestige, more prowess.
And then he unfurled a breath, and handed it back to her. “Will that be enough?”
--
Deimos has created:
Fire Bow: A wooden bow, upon the release of its string, that can ignite any arrows placed on its strand.
He could’ve said more on Sunjata, but preferred not tainting the entire evening with that oaf’s presence – besides, he always had ready made targets of the idiot if Cordelia wanted to fire a few rounds into his face – tilting his head to listen to her request. “Fire is always potent,” and one of his favorite elements for that very reason. His eyes went towards the bow offered and extended, and based on her words, held it with a quiet reverence. “All right, give me a moment.”
Focus layered amidst his brows, concentration honing in on the gilded incantations and enchantments beginning to pool through his palms. They never resisted, but rested, firmly and strongly, along the enamel of precious wood, spilling forth in great waves and curtains; flames embedded, measured through, until the time she snapped the strand, an arrow would ignite, filling the void with more power, more prestige, more prowess.
And then he unfurled a breath, and handed it back to her. “Will that be enough?”
--
Deimos has created:
Fire Bow: A wooden bow, upon the release of its string, that can ignite any arrows placed on its strand.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
