ready now, not waiting for the afterlife

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

With no comments about the people or things they’d had to face, Deimos half-wondered if Noah cared. Maybe he was internalizing his future actions, but he still had to work with a community who’d endured hardship after hardship, who’d been behind a barrier for three hundred years, and who still looked to the world with some amount of distrust and disdain. Throwing himself in any bullheaded facets into this particular void wouldn’t arrive without some minor setbacks. And while the Forsaken could’ve viewed them as a chore, Vi clearly cared about this region for some reason.

“Is that what you plan to do?” A shrine to Vi – in all its glory? The Temple housed any number of pedestals and benedictions – even after it’s horrific ventures.

With another sigh threatening to lodge itself and find a home in his lungs, he listened, tilting his head as Noah described his own meeting with Danta. An arch to his brow conformed to the statements, because his own event with the Ancient had left Deimos with the impression that the newfound leader was a bit numb in his own regard. “How so?” Maybe to make his friend feel better, and relay that the land was full of these bizarre interactions, he shrugged his shoulders. “I found him caught in a bear trap.”

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead