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’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the peryton – and only after a lengthy amount of time being pushy and irritating, did the companion feel the warnings through the bond. Within an instant, he’d lowered his head and raced back to Deimos, where he settled near Zuriel, curling up beneath her entity.
Thereafter though, with discussion of war, the man’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering elsewhere in the vast threshold of mist. Always one to protect and defend, and had done so as chosen by the heralds, he still wouldn’t shame any of those willing to find their own methods of shelter. Had he been capable of shielding everyone in the vast vicinity of his heart and soul, he would’ve done the same. They’d done the best they could in Halo, with minimal losses – but other lands, like the Grounds had not been so lucky. “That is fortunate then,” he managed to murmur, that others were spared the wakes of disaster – in the moments of feral barbarity. The restoration and renewal afterwards didn’t hide anything though.
Friendship with Talyson might’ve turned upon an embittered, rancorous, and ultimately indifferent end, but at least the courier was still branching out. While Deimos no longer accepted the foolishness, it was good to hear Halo’s reputation just and fair. So he nodded his head, permitting some manner of reserve to unfurl through his shoulders. “True. It is always cold. But we have ensured around the Citadel it stays hospitable.” And another hint of a smile at the discussion of the Sea of Glass. “One of my favorite places. It is as he says.” Pausing, his head tilted, turning his gaze back to the youth. "We also have some forests and foliage now along the tundra."
Thereafter though, with discussion of war, the man’s jaw clenched, eyes flickering elsewhere in the vast threshold of mist. Always one to protect and defend, and had done so as chosen by the heralds, he still wouldn’t shame any of those willing to find their own methods of shelter. Had he been capable of shielding everyone in the vast vicinity of his heart and soul, he would’ve done the same. They’d done the best they could in Halo, with minimal losses – but other lands, like the Grounds had not been so lucky. “That is fortunate then,” he managed to murmur, that others were spared the wakes of disaster – in the moments of feral barbarity. The restoration and renewal afterwards didn’t hide anything though.
Friendship with Talyson might’ve turned upon an embittered, rancorous, and ultimately indifferent end, but at least the courier was still branching out. While Deimos no longer accepted the foolishness, it was good to hear Halo’s reputation just and fair. So he nodded his head, permitting some manner of reserve to unfurl through his shoulders. “True. It is always cold. But we have ensured around the Citadel it stays hospitable.” And another hint of a smile at the discussion of the Sea of Glass. “One of my favorite places. It is as he says.” Pausing, his head tilted, turning his gaze back to the youth. "We also have some forests and foliage now along the tundra."
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
