DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Apparently roof installation had become quite a renowned skill of his; smooth and efficient, the labor a habitual, inherent thing by now. Once he stepped down from his ladder, surveyed and inspected his work, he carried on back into Sah’s quarters, to listen to the next set of direction.
Butchery, tannery, workspace. Aino had taken up the former, and so Deimos opted for the latter. “Workspace.” With a diligent nod, he walked over to the designated confines. Sah didn’t strike him as an individual who required anything elaborate, but the Sword could certainly construct and create a decent desk.
Magic conformed from the depths of his palms, golden and gilded, manifesting from the whims within his mind. Moment by moment and stretch by stretch, the incantations came together in a sturdy assemblage of rich wood, perhaps a darker hue than most, with little wolves carved on the bottom, and along the sides – some with wings, some normal. Some were hunting, racing after their pretty, and some were howling, hollering to their moon.
Butchery, tannery, workspace. Aino had taken up the former, and so Deimos opted for the latter. “Workspace.” With a diligent nod, he walked over to the designated confines. Sah didn’t strike him as an individual who required anything elaborate, but the Sword could certainly construct and create a decent desk.
Magic conformed from the depths of his palms, golden and gilded, manifesting from the whims within his mind. Moment by moment and stretch by stretch, the incantations came together in a sturdy assemblage of rich wood, perhaps a darker hue than most, with little wolves carved on the bottom, and along the sides – some with wings, some normal. Some were hunting, racing after their pretty, and some were howling, hollering to their moon.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
