I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos was not one for small talk. Most of the time his conversations were purposeful, teasing, or taunting, and at least the latter portions were extended in hopes of goading his friends. George didn’t seem particularly inclined to regale with anything but bare bones and simplicity, and even the Sword found himself struggling to respond. And he certainly wasn’t going to ask about what the Torcher and Ru had been up to – he knew better. “I have experienced sea panthers before,” assisting in destroying one and electrocuting Sunjata simultaneously, “but not ghost whales.” Perhaps he’d never been far enough out to sea.
Contemplating the reaches of the guild house now, and the range of his incantations, he opted for an alteration. “Headed to the roof,” came by way of warning, before shifting into his eagle form; an unfurling of sienna wings and fast, swift ascension, before landing upon shingles and wood above.
Contemplating the reaches of the guild house now, and the range of his incantations, he opted for an alteration. “Headed to the roof,” came by way of warning, before shifting into his eagle form; an unfurling of sienna wings and fast, swift ascension, before landing upon shingles and wood above.
DEIMOS
