you shine brighter than anyone

DEIMOS

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

Deimos wrinkled his nose at both deer and cheerful murmurs, intending to give her yet another warning about the inherent, chaotic maelstrom that was Belial – but then the peryton did that well on his own. In a matter of moments he’d rampaged around the youth in a rapid circle, wings outstretched, bumping, imploring for more scratches, while hooting and hollering at the top of his deer lungs. The Sword withheld a sigh, but just barely.

Zuriel, for her part, remained entirely standoffish and indifferent, so Deimos gave her a firm pat on the neck and shook his head. Besides, other notions became clear, enough so that his attention hastened straight back to Sohalia. The Grounds could be a touchy subject for multitudes, and he could feel the inward crawl along his spine; memories never quite abandoned. “I see,” and then arching his brow, remembering the reports on Sparkbirds and demolition, persisted. “Did you avoid the war?”

Incapable of visiting Stormbreak himself, he couldn’t comment on the land, but some manner of discomfort disassembled at mentions of Halo, managing to crook some manner of a grin. “What have you heard?”

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