DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Glancing around, eyes on the horizon as the storm seemed either tapering off or moving eastward, his gaze eventually rounded back towards the Forsaken, pondering over the subject into ever further means. “They are not being oppressed. Perhaps the Voice might have done so, but even then, there was always an option.” To leave or stay – to flee or remain. “But these people know how to survive.” With all the disasters flickering in their midst, with the barrier conforming, then crumbling down over them, and every other wake threatening their existence – the Grounds citizens had persevered. Perhaps not well, but enough to make it by, day after day. “But sometimes that is all they have time for – lasting.” So that was where Noah could strive and try and give them something to ease the burden, the weight, of each lingering instant.
The sudden inkling of the bond again caused his head to tilt, but he still said nothing; the stoicism alive and well, even on the bridges of another sigh. New leadership, especially one like Danta, could be either encouraging or perplexing. “I have met him before,” once when the Ancient had gotten himself caught in a bear trap, and the other while wandering the Grounds – he’d likely been scavenging then too. “Interesting man. You could probably work with him well enough.”
But the other insinuations left the arched brow to branch upwards once more. “Is that meant to signify something?” After all – Safrin had told a multitude of them not to regard Dygra as a villain.
The sudden inkling of the bond again caused his head to tilt, but he still said nothing; the stoicism alive and well, even on the bridges of another sigh. New leadership, especially one like Danta, could be either encouraging or perplexing. “I have met him before,” once when the Ancient had gotten himself caught in a bear trap, and the other while wandering the Grounds – he’d likely been scavenging then too. “Interesting man. You could probably work with him well enough.”
But the other insinuations left the arched brow to branch upwards once more. “Is that meant to signify something?” After all – Safrin had told a multitude of them not to regard Dygra as a villain.
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
