03-19-2016, 04:19 PM
head like a hole; black as your soul
I'd rather die than give you control
I'd rather die than give you control
The weather has eased itself onto the drying flatland, withdrawing all signs of life from previously vibrant, now brittle brush that littered the bland topography. The sky was dim, dark and brewing overhead, though there was nothing unusual about an overcast day in the north. The sky was often filled to the brim with masses of condensed water vapor, shifting and crawling across the pale horizon, always holding the threat of wet or icy cold accompaniment. He savored these days, for his taut obsidian skin was a beacon for heat and salty sweat, which often lingered in the roots of his tresses for hours. He preferred the gentle embrace of frost and chill; it was comforting to be within its grasp once again.
There is a difference in the atmosphere; the scent of another drifts across the terrain and lingers as he inhales its femininity deeply. It is not often that a female breaches their borders, but it never fails to be an entertaining venture. He steps from the shadows, having been lingering in the brush as he fell quiet in the early morning, lost in thought. He draws himself out now, no longer able to remain within the comfort of the solace of his own mind. He had to venture forth, and so he did. The sinewy muscles beneath his flesh ripple and flex as he propels himself towards the entrance of their grand kingdom, which is lacking its usual allure now (to an outsider, at least).
He loved the dreary; he loved simplicity.
He sees her figure in the distance long before he reaches her. His lumbering figure rumbles towards her, rattling and disturbing the shifting sediment beneath his massive weight as he takes in her slender, feminine features. She is as black as night, much like he is, but lacks the deeply set, pink-tinted scars that mar his coat - and the fresh white wound cast upon his left cheek. He did not have much time to linger on it, as his looming presence was soon not the only one.
Observing him with dark crimson eyes, Offspring carefully assesses Brynmor's brash words. His voice was not laced with venom, but his tone was dry and uninviting. He cannot help the growling laughter bubbling within his throat as he approaches to the left of the dappled male, his flesh is so close to his that he would perhaps feel the warmth of his body - if he had any warmth left to give. Something had changed within those caves of ice; something had shifted within him. He no longer exuded the same heat he once did, but his flesh was icy cold to the touch. He felt immune to the current weather, which was altogether bone chilling in reality, whereas once upon a time he might have flinched.
Having assumed he had simply grown immune to the cold, it was not until a disturbing burst of anger had caused spikes of ice to spout around his thick legs, stirring his imagination. He knew not his own capabilities of ice and snow, yet, and kept a tight lid on his new found power until it could be harnesses and controlled.
"Good morning," He drawls softly, glancing between the two. He casts a smile to the coal-painted stranger, his lips curled in a single corner as he smirks at her slightly. "this is Brynmor, and I am Offspring. What can we assist you with?"
There is a difference in the atmosphere; the scent of another drifts across the terrain and lingers as he inhales its femininity deeply. It is not often that a female breaches their borders, but it never fails to be an entertaining venture. He steps from the shadows, having been lingering in the brush as he fell quiet in the early morning, lost in thought. He draws himself out now, no longer able to remain within the comfort of the solace of his own mind. He had to venture forth, and so he did. The sinewy muscles beneath his flesh ripple and flex as he propels himself towards the entrance of their grand kingdom, which is lacking its usual allure now (to an outsider, at least).
He loved the dreary; he loved simplicity.
He sees her figure in the distance long before he reaches her. His lumbering figure rumbles towards her, rattling and disturbing the shifting sediment beneath his massive weight as he takes in her slender, feminine features. She is as black as night, much like he is, but lacks the deeply set, pink-tinted scars that mar his coat - and the fresh white wound cast upon his left cheek. He did not have much time to linger on it, as his looming presence was soon not the only one.
Observing him with dark crimson eyes, Offspring carefully assesses Brynmor's brash words. His voice was not laced with venom, but his tone was dry and uninviting. He cannot help the growling laughter bubbling within his throat as he approaches to the left of the dappled male, his flesh is so close to his that he would perhaps feel the warmth of his body - if he had any warmth left to give. Something had changed within those caves of ice; something had shifted within him. He no longer exuded the same heat he once did, but his flesh was icy cold to the touch. He felt immune to the current weather, which was altogether bone chilling in reality, whereas once upon a time he might have flinched.
Having assumed he had simply grown immune to the cold, it was not until a disturbing burst of anger had caused spikes of ice to spout around his thick legs, stirring his imagination. He knew not his own capabilities of ice and snow, yet, and kept a tight lid on his new found power until it could be harnesses and controlled.
"Good morning," He drawls softly, glancing between the two. He casts a smile to the coal-painted stranger, his lips curled in a single corner as he smirks at her slightly. "this is Brynmor, and I am Offspring. What can we assist you with?"
the ice king of the tundra
OFFSPRING