DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Slipping his own works and journal back into the confines of the saddlebags, he didn’t miss the excited movements. Understanding the nature of his own restless energy at times, his brow merely arched, waiting, listening, to how she would take the musing and advice.
The inquiry caught him off-guard though, so his eyes widened ever so slightly, and a snort volleyed through, a deep rumbling chuckle he couldn’t quite muffle. “No, you do not need to join.” The Sword didn’t say it, but would agree with her persistent sentiments about monster hunting perhaps not being for her; given all indications of what had already transpired. He already had misgivings about several of his members, and had no intentions of making his job more difficult, or scarring the youth any further than today’s misadventures.
Making the transactional process easier on her, despite being an individual who often provided, and not the other way around, he nodded, managing to silence the next round of threatened laughter. “I could accept donations.”
The inquiry caught him off-guard though, so his eyes widened ever so slightly, and a snort volleyed through, a deep rumbling chuckle he couldn’t quite muffle. “No, you do not need to join.” The Sword didn’t say it, but would agree with her persistent sentiments about monster hunting perhaps not being for her; given all indications of what had already transpired. He already had misgivings about several of his members, and had no intentions of making his job more difficult, or scarring the youth any further than today’s misadventures.
Making the transactional process easier on her, despite being an individual who often provided, and not the other way around, he nodded, managing to silence the next round of threatened laughter. “I could accept donations.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
