DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
The Sword could take a hint, and withdrew the offerings, flicking them upwards for Belial to launch and scatter after instead. The peryton did so with great aplomb and relish, hooting gloriously, if not a bit obnoxiously, to the prideful cub, snagging several in mid-air. “Interesting,” he noted, considering those that were picky, or unusual, in the wild often didn’t make it for very long. Maybe that was why it’d bonded to Sah – knowing there were better fortitudes out there for it.
But Deimos took note too, glancing down at the different jerky – ursur, rather than the ningo ones he often used, before trying once more. He crouched down same as before, much less imposing and massive (maybe; he couldn’t really be certain given his size anyway). “Does he do the same with roofs?” Wondering if it just seemed to be trait to gather sanctity in higher refuges.
But Deimos took note too, glancing down at the different jerky – ursur, rather than the ningo ones he often used, before trying once more. He crouched down same as before, much less imposing and massive (maybe; he couldn’t really be certain given his size anyway). “Does he do the same with roofs?” Wondering if it just seemed to be trait to gather sanctity in higher refuges.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
