I carried my own ashes to the mountains
The deities could be just as fickle and capricious as human counterparts, and Deimos could recall asking multitudes about their experiences, before ever beginning to think of the march towards Attunement and Safrin’s cosmos. That George didn’t seem inclined to inquire about the starry herald surprised him for a moment, the expectation of providing his notions fading behind his teeth, eyes widening for a fraction as he listened. Nothing but agreement and accord. Muffling a snort and shaking his head, airing a miscalculation away on his part, he tossed down another reel of thread. “Nor should you,” he applied his own accord.
Glancing down at the inquiry, his mind, often full of machinations in hordes of directions, mulled and mused. “Could make quite a bit out of it. Clothing. Bedding. Bags. Upholstery.” He would have persisted in rattling off a few other tangents, but figured that was enough to supply George with some variety of ideas.
Glancing down at the inquiry, his mind, often full of machinations in hordes of directions, mulled and mused. “Could make quite a bit out of it. Clothing. Bedding. Bags. Upholstery.” He would have persisted in rattling off a few other tangents, but figured that was enough to supply George with some variety of ideas.
DEIMOS
