DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Intending to oblige at the offer, and acceptance, he strung watery elements and fixtures together. Incantations maneuvered and snagged, pulling away stray droplets and dampened pages, until the paper was completely dry, if a bit wrinkled, and the rest evaporated into the midst of his calloused palms. It’d be able to last a little longer, at the very least, without being broken and snapped.
His jaw clenched again at the notions of the Hollowed Grounds, but strived to let the moments and figments pass, tilting his head as he continued to peruse the journal with a discerning eye. “Do you intend to explore everywhere?” The segments of the Draig would be ill-advised, given his own experiences, but she could likely access mostly everywhere else, if she was snagging at skyships.
His jaw clenched again at the notions of the Hollowed Grounds, but strived to let the moments and figments pass, tilting his head as he continued to peruse the journal with a discerning eye. “Do you intend to explore everywhere?” The segments of the Draig would be ill-advised, given his own experiences, but she could likely access mostly everywhere else, if she was snagging at skyships.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
