DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
He'd seen the molten tiger shift amidst their hunting party efforts, but considering he didn’t know how long she’d been an Ancient, if she’d grown leaps and bounds within that timeframe, or what she’d been doing since the war, the inquiry had been within just the same. To hear naught else made his eyes narrow; not out of suspicion or malice, but levels of intrigue, striving for understanding. The answer to the hordes of inquiries taking shape in his mind arrived soon thereafter, and so they trailed off back into the forefront of his machinations. Perhaps she’d been much like others – forged and formed well after the Voice had succumbed, only exposed when the timing was right.
His head tilted again, snagging at the information, before her own question meandered through. An expected one, and his experience always wielded some bout of advice. “Practice with whomever and whenever possible. You should hone all the skills you have.” Including the shift, the weapons, and anything else that might grow and unfurl from an Ancient’s prowess. “We repaired the barracks in the Grounds a season or so ago,” thinking perhaps that was where she existed once more. “Utilize anything in there.”
His head tilted again, snagging at the information, before her own question meandered through. An expected one, and his experience always wielded some bout of advice. “Practice with whomever and whenever possible. You should hone all the skills you have.” Including the shift, the weapons, and anything else that might grow and unfurl from an Ancient’s prowess. “We repaired the barracks in the Grounds a season or so ago,” thinking perhaps that was where she existed once more. “Utilize anything in there.”
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
