through the fire and the flames
For a moment he is confused, thinking perhaps the faded scents of the mares he had picked up here had finally returned only to find him, a squatter in their space. But he is wrong, he quickly sees his mistake as his fire illuminates the silver bay stallion before him that seemed to appear from the very shadows themselves. Even Terror seems surprised by his appearance. “S..Sky?” He stammers, still confused and off balance from being caught unawares. It is the appearance of the second stallion that makes him swallow hard and try to appear more put together then he actually was. That’s what his mother would expect of him. Even if she wasn’t here with him (or gone although he refuses to believe that), her teachings still ring plain as day in her head.
“What can the weak do for us?”
He wasn’t one of the weak. Through fire and spirit, he was stronger than most. He understood this now, perhaps not on the level that Sickle had been, but stronger than most. He shouldn’t cower to anyone let alone two strangers that appeared in the middle of the night. He tried to embrace this teaching more than anything else because he saw this weakness in himself and if he was ever to make Aela truly proud he would need to eliminate it. It was hard though, something that wasn’t as easy to conquer like it had been to pull souls from the void and create fire out of nothing which was as easy as breathing. So for now he just tries to fake it till he makes it.
A slight lift of his muzzle, a little defiance in his yellow eyes that peer through tangled threads of unkempt reddish forelock and yet the flames still lick along his spine, that one give away that he wasn’t nearly as confident as he appeared. The two stallions seems to know each other, recognizing the warmth in the newest strangers voice to the other. There is a glow around the winged one, the one that calls him Flicker which produces a slight scowl on his own pale lips. “It’s Fyr, not Flicker.” He says sullenly in the way that most teenagers would when feeling undermined. “And I wasn’t burning down anything. I just…” He shifts a back hoof, uncomfortable. “Nobody else was here. I’d give it back if they showed up.”
Despite his discomfort, a small part of him is relieved to be discovered. There had been purpose in setting flames along the scorched beach, smoke signals in the air. There had been purpose in standing in the cold when the moon was bright as he gazed up at the colorful streaks in the sky as he glowed, a lantern in the darkness. (”Like the sun” Liesma had said to him but it is hard enough to look up at the stars without thinking of her, he can’t bare to think of her now.) Perhaps these strangers might be helpful. Perhaps they could help him back home…If there was a home to return to. “I’m lost.” The young spotted stallion finally admits. “Could you… Could you help me?”
“What can the weak do for us?”
He wasn’t one of the weak. Through fire and spirit, he was stronger than most. He understood this now, perhaps not on the level that Sickle had been, but stronger than most. He shouldn’t cower to anyone let alone two strangers that appeared in the middle of the night. He tried to embrace this teaching more than anything else because he saw this weakness in himself and if he was ever to make Aela truly proud he would need to eliminate it. It was hard though, something that wasn’t as easy to conquer like it had been to pull souls from the void and create fire out of nothing which was as easy as breathing. So for now he just tries to fake it till he makes it.
A slight lift of his muzzle, a little defiance in his yellow eyes that peer through tangled threads of unkempt reddish forelock and yet the flames still lick along his spine, that one give away that he wasn’t nearly as confident as he appeared. The two stallions seems to know each other, recognizing the warmth in the newest strangers voice to the other. There is a glow around the winged one, the one that calls him Flicker which produces a slight scowl on his own pale lips. “It’s Fyr, not Flicker.” He says sullenly in the way that most teenagers would when feeling undermined. “And I wasn’t burning down anything. I just…” He shifts a back hoof, uncomfortable. “Nobody else was here. I’d give it back if they showed up.”
Despite his discomfort, a small part of him is relieved to be discovered. There had been purpose in setting flames along the scorched beach, smoke signals in the air. There had been purpose in standing in the cold when the moon was bright as he gazed up at the colorful streaks in the sky as he glowed, a lantern in the darkness. (”Like the sun” Liesma had said to him but it is hard enough to look up at the stars without thinking of her, he can’t bare to think of her now.) Perhaps these strangers might be helpful. Perhaps they could help him back home…If there was a home to return to. “I’m lost.” The young spotted stallion finally admits. “Could you… Could you help me?”
Fyr
@Nashua @Leilan