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 could probably surmise the circumstances on his own, given some of the information given to him from Kiada – but he’d been much more tied up in the notions that she was alive, no longer dependent upon the Voice, and they could return to decent terms again. Instead, he didn’t give way to presumptions – a lesson hard fought sometimes. “What do you mean?”
Marching along, long strides carrying him throughout the caverns as if he’d meandered through many times (he had, in some part, given the multitudes of ventures conspired here), his head tilted back towards Fox at the inquiries of Safrin. Not wholly unexpected, he permitted a nod and a vague smile. “An apt way to put it,” mercurial, capricious, prone to volatility, but keenly rewarding to her subjects. “Yes. She holds allegiance and faithfulness in high regard.” Eyes lifting back towards the cavern walls, he persisted. “She did not hesitate to heal us after the war,” uncertain if he could say the same for followers of others. “And has given me sound advice often. Attuned me as well.”
Marching along, long strides carrying him throughout the caverns as if he’d meandered through many times (he had, in some part, given the multitudes of ventures conspired here), his head tilted back towards Fox at the inquiries of Safrin. Not wholly unexpected, he permitted a nod and a vague smile. “An apt way to put it,” mercurial, capricious, prone to volatility, but keenly rewarding to her subjects. “Yes. She holds allegiance and faithfulness in high regard.” Eyes lifting back towards the cavern walls, he persisted. “She did not hesitate to heal us after the war,” uncertain if he could say the same for followers of others. “And has given me sound advice often. Attuned me as well.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
