± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
It’s all politics and mind numbing words shattering his thoughts and forcing themselves out into the world. The earthy bay finds he is becoming more and more like the heat that bubbles within him and that his mind is eager to burst forth like volcano. Already his intellect is turning the tides, making waves across the realms in forms of ties that are not easily forged. Still, he forges them with fire, with heat from the center of the earth and a jaw grinding political correctness that is difficult to maintain.
At least the trip to the Tundra had been in their favor, whether the alliance was set in stone or not- something told him it would all work itself out and soon enough they would all be working together. Tethers did not so easily make, nor did they so easily break because Killdare would see to it that somehow they maintained. Thus he bestowed a gift to the chilly world of the Tundra, the Kingdom of Ice, in his best interest as well as theirs he left it. It was a small gesture when it came down to it but it was a gesture nonetheless and times called for more action and less empty words.
Many small gestures like this he had performed recently, all pawns and plays in the great game of thrones but he did not so carelessly disperse his. For the Valley it was as simple as letting a young girl go, giving up a captive and shoving her head first into a real of shadow and darkness. Hopefully Eight would manage to keep the shadows from eating her alive, otherwise the agreement would be meaningless and as useless as a, well, as useless as a dead girl in this instance. Simple but the act itself was paramount in the growing web and one missing string would send this great work flailing in the breeze, subject to the whims of the current.
The King of Magma and brimstone stalks the pines, brushing his chalky sides against their renewed bark, leaving behind a sooty mark of his own. Some days he took to counting them, just to ease the thoughts that bombarded him on a daily basis. Other days he would seek the thickest set, hiding away in their evergreen cover and pretending the world did not exist. Not all days were bad though, today he did neither, he simply set course through the forest and admired the gentle snowfall that managed to breach the prickly canopy.
As he walked the snow cleared, melted with each hoofstep leaving behind a blatant trail that he did not bother to conceal. His skin shifted in dark plates against a liquid basecoat, one ever moving and changing in deep reds and oranges and golds. Eyes that once mimicked the glass of the sea, now burned with intensity against his serious looking face. The best part was the molten crown bubbling precariously on top of his large head, moving fluidly in a circlet of spikes but never dribbling down his jaws.
At least the trip to the Tundra had been in their favor, whether the alliance was set in stone or not- something told him it would all work itself out and soon enough they would all be working together. Tethers did not so easily make, nor did they so easily break because Killdare would see to it that somehow they maintained. Thus he bestowed a gift to the chilly world of the Tundra, the Kingdom of Ice, in his best interest as well as theirs he left it. It was a small gesture when it came down to it but it was a gesture nonetheless and times called for more action and less empty words.
Many small gestures like this he had performed recently, all pawns and plays in the great game of thrones but he did not so carelessly disperse his. For the Valley it was as simple as letting a young girl go, giving up a captive and shoving her head first into a real of shadow and darkness. Hopefully Eight would manage to keep the shadows from eating her alive, otherwise the agreement would be meaningless and as useless as a, well, as useless as a dead girl in this instance. Simple but the act itself was paramount in the growing web and one missing string would send this great work flailing in the breeze, subject to the whims of the current.
The King of Magma and brimstone stalks the pines, brushing his chalky sides against their renewed bark, leaving behind a sooty mark of his own. Some days he took to counting them, just to ease the thoughts that bombarded him on a daily basis. Other days he would seek the thickest set, hiding away in their evergreen cover and pretending the world did not exist. Not all days were bad though, today he did neither, he simply set course through the forest and admired the gentle snowfall that managed to breach the prickly canopy.
As he walked the snow cleared, melted with each hoofstep leaving behind a blatant trail that he did not bother to conceal. His skin shifted in dark plates against a liquid basecoat, one ever moving and changing in deep reds and oranges and golds. Eyes that once mimicked the glass of the sea, now burned with intensity against his serious looking face. The best part was the molten crown bubbling precariously on top of his large head, moving fluidly in a circlet of spikes but never dribbling down his jaws.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
