DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
As he noted the sheepish look, the Sword knew what was coming. A heavy sigh lingered in his chest, corded off and away until it was stifled, but a long, slow breath managed to fumble its way through regardless. Even Zuriel snorted, unimpressed in the background, and Deimos was left to wonder how some managed to live quite so long. Protection via families, most likely, given how he hovered and ensured others were safe – but he also didn’t overwhelm and shelter so much that when they meandered into reality, they had nothing to their name but luck and ignorance.
They had to be able to think on their own. To guard themselves. Because if it wasn’t the random people, like cultists, cannibals, criminals, or the wild creatures, there was eternally something else. A change in the weather. A sudden earthquake. A volcano exploding. Worlds shifting, lands altering entirely. He didn’t want to question how Sohalia had survived all these years, but it hovered there, along with the wrinkle to his nose.
She didn’t strike him as someone who would even want to wield a weapon, so he shook his head. “You were going to explore with no way to defend yourself?” The world was full of kind, compassionate people, but gods, there were also the exact opposite. Caido itself was an unpredictable force.
Not rolling his eyes, and holding back a lifetime of lectures, he simply placed his palms together, and then maneuvered them outward, so in between the calloused hands was a gilded haze, conjuring, conducting, creating, until a wooden shield appeared. “Use this.”
They had to be able to think on their own. To guard themselves. Because if it wasn’t the random people, like cultists, cannibals, criminals, or the wild creatures, there was eternally something else. A change in the weather. A sudden earthquake. A volcano exploding. Worlds shifting, lands altering entirely. He didn’t want to question how Sohalia had survived all these years, but it hovered there, along with the wrinkle to his nose.
She didn’t strike him as someone who would even want to wield a weapon, so he shook his head. “You were going to explore with no way to defend yourself?” The world was full of kind, compassionate people, but gods, there were also the exact opposite. Caido itself was an unpredictable force.
Not rolling his eyes, and holding back a lifetime of lectures, he simply placed his palms together, and then maneuvered them outward, so in between the calloused hands was a gilded haze, conjuring, conducting, creating, until a wooden shield appeared. “Use this.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
