i'm like a time bomb, ticking in your head | hurricane

[Offspring]

lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all.
but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.

   Summer had long since begun to to descend and settle into the land of ice, and the greenery had begun to spring between thin, crackling shards of ice as the warmth of day overtook every living, photosynthesizing thing in the valley. The sun was beginning to make its way over the horizon; the dawn of a new day. Its light reflected off of minuscule ice crystals, which shimmer and dance in the morning light, illuminating the ground with its wonder. 

   It is only a matter of time until they begin to melt the crystals away, leaving dew drops lingering on the thriving grasses and brush that cling on to life. Autumn will be coming soon, and with it, the eventual promise of thick frost and a blanket of snow, which will undoubtedly end yet another life cycle for these gentle plants. Even though he has lived many years, each season still has its own allure, and it is when the sky is painted with broad strokes of orange and yellow that he feels most at ease. It was rare to have a quiet moment in these dark days.

   The war had been inevitable. The tension in the air was thick, the air static with the electricity of loathing and hatred across unseen borders. The pressure had grown unbearable, finally breaking out into a battle of broken skulls, crackling bones and spilled blood. Though he had managed to maintain neutrality - he had few enemies, but the alliance between his dwelling and the Amazonians had potential to wreck havoc on the lives of himself and his brothers but had not. He had seen rotting, bloating carcasses strewn about, their eye sockets barren and their limbs picked of their sinewy tendons and flesh by scavengers - many of their faces had been destroyed. Crush. Split. No longer recognizable. He and the others of the icy land had been untouched; he supposed he should be grateful for such.

   The bristling chill of night was fading away, though the surface of his skin was undoubtedly cold to the touch. He shifted his limbs, rippling the taut muscles beneath his scarred coal-painted pelt, shaking off the sheen of ice that had coated his flesh in the night. He stepped forward from the brush, allowing his skin to bathe in the soft morning light, though his dark crimson eyes remain shielded by his long, tangled tresses as they drape over his gaze. He peers through, seeking movement stirring among the stillness of the ice wall, and at first - he sees nothing.

   A second glance tells him otherwise. 

   He is a sight to behold, and though he is not massive in stature in the way that he himself is, he is glorious nonetheless. His broad, alabaster wings are outstretched, undoubtedly shaking themselves free of the confines of frost, before cradling next to his pale dappled pelt. He watches him, stark against the shining reflection of ice behind him, his maroon gaze peering from a distance .. until he finally makes a move. He approaches slowly but deliberately, allowing the laziness of morning to thread its way into his every movement. His mass stalks through the increasingly barren land, his weight shifting the moist soil beneath him as he steps closer to his King. 

   "Hurricane - I am Offspring," his voice rumbles out, deep but dry from the crisp air. "I have been searching you out for some time. The Tundra has been quiet - too quiet,  but calm while war has come and gone. There are negotiations now, and the slaughter seems to be coming to a close .. the brotherhood is wondering what is next for us."

OFFSPRING

Updated the post to be more relevant for the times. @[insane]