DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Blood moon festival gave him more of an apprehensive edge; even when curiosity and intrigue melded together. Most of the time he ended up going to these sorts of occasions despite rudimentary inclinations and experiences; often telling himself he could at least aid if anything went awry again. In some portions, he even enjoyed them – if permitted to relax into the fold. He wasn’t going to place all of his wariness upon someone else though, especially a stranger. “May not be terrible,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.
Remembering the location of the obsidian for another day, he persisted in his wandering, glancing back down at the sketch of the darkling every so often. The notions of fyrhund shifts made him smirk though, very similar to his own hellhound molding. “Quite a few.” Brows furrowing, but only in thought, experiences drew together again, along the low rumbles of his tones. “Do you have a bond with one another to communicate?” He and Kiada hadn’t been able to do so via Attuned measures, but maybe that was because of primordial ventures and constituents.
Remembering the location of the obsidian for another day, he persisted in his wandering, glancing back down at the sketch of the darkling every so often. The notions of fyrhund shifts made him smirk though, very similar to his own hellhound molding. “Quite a few.” Brows furrowing, but only in thought, experiences drew together again, along the low rumbles of his tones. “Do you have a bond with one another to communicate?” He and Kiada hadn’t been able to do so via Attuned measures, but maybe that was because of primordial ventures and constituents.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
