07-12-2016, 05:01 PM
THE EARTH IS ALIVE, AND MAN IS A PARASITE.
AND HEAVENLY BODIES MAKE US FIGHT.
The way that he croons gently into his ear and the gentle way he strokes the tense, taut muscles of his jawline cause something to stir deeply within him. Though he is legitimately uncertain as to whether or not it is the same loathing disdain that simmered a mere hour ago, or if it was beginning to stew into something much more convoluted and strange. His nostrils flare with a sharpened intake of air as the crooked fingertips caress his flesh in a tantalizing, satisfying, yet sickening way, and though his mind recoils from the violation, he merely remains still, unable to deny the affection.
His eyes – still darkened their same impenetrable red – observe him dully as he finally grows tired of murmuring sweet nothings to his precious monstrosity, and soon draws away from him. He does not hesitate, as his body involuntarily begins to follow him, pace steady but lacking in vigor as it had in the midst of an adrenaline-fueled battleground. He pauses to gaze behind him, observing the pooling blood as it coagulates along the frigid surface of the cobblestone floor, but before his very eyes, the product of his carnage begins to fade away. A figment of his imagination, as his heart ached and desperately hoped it all would be in the end.
His memory begins to drift away, to distant sights and scents, to old familiar sensory stimuli that soothe this otherwise rampant mind. He often tucks his thoughts away into the dark recesses of his mind, but it is not so easy to do when the light at the end of the tunnel begins to dim and fade away into oblivion. He follows effortlessly, tense muscles rippling beneath his flesh as he lopes slowly behind the smug man, who once again hums a simple, melodious tune. It fades into the background of his own thoughts, which bubble to the surface stubbornly in spite of his every passionate effort to drown them out.
At last, he is brought to the present – dull eyes observing the otherwise paltry fort that lie ahead. For a creature with such intricate magical abilities, it is small, humble and rather peculiar in taste. With misshapen wooden boards lining the walls, which seem to lean too much in one direction versus the other, cracked block stepping stones (Offspring finds himself uncomfortably uneven in his steps, and so he steps to the side to avoid them) and various color trinkets hung all around. Alongside the oddly designed building is a small trough with crystalline water and a thick pile of hay, though the very thought of consuming it turns his stomach.
He can still taste the viscous blood on his tongue.
The strange man pauses at the creaking door, smiling brightly at the obscenely tall, behemoth stallion that looms behind him – his shadow nearly eclipses his own as the sun hovers behind him, illuminating Offspring in its bright light as it shines onto his starkly contrasted pelt. He draws the door back, and for a moment, he is certain it must be in jest – the door is far too short and far too thin for his own thick body to slide through. He eyes the man with obvious doubt and disdain, but he insists with a gentle flick of his wrist, and with a sharp exhalation of air from his rounded nostrils, Offspring irritably complies.
He is met with no resistance – the door seemingly molds around his thick torso, broad shoulders and even grows in height to accommodate his stature. He steps through and finds his weight heavily placed once more onto a thick plating of cobblestone, and his eyes widen incredulously at the sight that lay before him. Though it appeared to be a measly, simple shack on the outside (so small and irresponsibly build that it must belong to a small troll, or perhaps a wayward fairy too inexperienced to create anything more withstanding), it is anything but within.
The ceilings are high, perhaps six or seven times his own size in height, and lines with intricate, finely cut minerals (quartz in various shades of amethyst, rose, yellow and green, among others) that reflect the refracting light of the unique, curious chandeliers that dangle overhead. The walls are lined with many tapestries, some of a rather strange looking individuals (unusual fairies such as Grumblesnakes himself – ancestors, perhaps?) and others of intricately woven landscapes. In between the many tapestries are heavy, wooden doors, no doubt fortified in one manner or another, indicating that the overly simplified shack is much more than meets the eye.
Still disbelieving, his dark crimson eyes meet with Grumblesnakes' gleaming pair, uncertainty expressed along the tension of his jaw. With a loud, bellowing guffaw, Grumblesnakes reaches to gently tangle his fingertips within his tresses, stroking him reassuringly in a way that both soothes and riles the beast that roars irritably from within. ”I had you fooled, didn't I? There is always more than meets the eye, Offspring. Though I have concealed myself well enough, there is danger lurking and I seek protection. You have proven yourself worthy. I need your assistance. I need your guardianship in the days to come. Will you assist me?"
There is something looming within his intricate question; something that suggests he has no other choice. Alas, an obligation arises and simmers within his beating heat. He feels drawn to protect him, to serve him. Wordlessly, he nods with an air of confidence.
Over the following days, he takes his time in observing each and every room, analyzing the many crevices and cracks of cobblestone and scanning the terrain surrounding the malformed fort for weakness. Escape never occurs to him - or if it does, it remains beneath the tight lock and key of an unnerving calm that continues to penetrate the very fibers of his being. Many urges are drawn forth from something that has lain deep within him, provoked by the destruction he encountered within the walls of the coliseum. He harnesses the power that stirs within to fortify walls, to repair what has been damaged. He evokes magma from his own seeping pores, using it to fill the cracks and crevices of the walls and floors before manipulating the atoms with an icy breath to cool it into hard igneous rock, sealing each space.
As time draws on, he finds himself acutely aware of each and every figurative pin drop - even the slow crawl of an arachnid's eight legs can be heard by his ever-twitching, swiveling ears, and though it makes sleep restless (he stands close to the creaking bedside of his master, drifting off on occasion but mostly focused on the heavy sounds of the evenfall). When his heavy eyelids rise with each disturbance, he searching through the cobblestone walls for any heat signatures but finds nothing but the insignificant rustling of rodents skittering through the stone passageways.
He spends much of his time outside, depleting himself of his energy reserve with something much more powerful than he had ever attempted before. Though barriers were nothing new to him (his own, bittersweet ice fortress was guarded by one - oh, how he missed it and ached for those familiar faces once more), something within his soul urged him to reach far beyond his own understanding and to surge force with every piece of himself to erect something unseen but much more powerful than anything he had ever attempted. While the fort itself was already surrounded by a force field forged by Grumblesnakes' own hands, he had an insatiable need to learn the craft for himself. It was exhaustive work, and though he had once flinched away from the wry, cold touch of the other man, he relented to his constant goading for him to drink, to consume sustenance, for his weakness penetrated too much of his being if he failed to.
After three days, a force field is finally erected around the feeble shack, shimmering with an opalescent light beneath both the sun and the moon, doubling its protection. Occasionally, he would amuse both himself (though humor was often too far gone from his wayward soul now) and Grumblesnakes with a show of epic proportions, throwing immense fireball projectiles, ice blasts and even kinetic explosions at the impenetrable force field - all neutralized by it before any massive damage could be made. Grumblesnakes seemed pleased, often cooing sweet nothings to him, and though it did not tug at his own heartstrings, Offspring felt satisfied that in a time of need, he too could erect a force field. Perhaps even around his own master, at will.
It is beneath the setting sun and the rise of twilight that something deeper, darker and more foreboding begins to settle in. As Offspring begins to lose himself once more to his thoughts, drowning in the woe that continually bubbles within his aching chest at the thought of his children, of his Queen, while the strange (and admittedly intoxicated, and not for the first time) man that leans against his massive, scarred body begins to tremble alongside him. His fingers tangle in his matted tresses as he leans against and clings onto his homegrown guardian, who stiffens at the sudden closeness of his captor, master and manipulator. He swivels his massive head, cheek turned towards him with red eyes glaring, before following his gaze. Above them, beyond the flashing red and silver force fields (both Offspring's and Grumblesnakes') that protect them, a glimmering bubble of red envelopes their own as a shadow eclipses the falling sun and shrouds them in darkness befitting a moonless night.
"They're coming; they're here," He whispers urgently, voice cracking beneath his intense quivering. He buried his greasy, grimy face into Offspring's locks of hair, hiding against the nape of his neck. "this is it, Offspring -"
"Let them come," Offspring booms at last, his silence breaking with a festering rage that begins to surge from within. The halter splits at the very seams, incinerating and falling away as ashes from his terse jawline, which clenches in fury. Though no longer bound by innate calm or forced submission, his ferocity grows and envelopes him whole, and pure white fire burns beneath his flesh, his urge to protect now dwelling within his very soul, breaking apart the magic of his halter. Grumblesnakes recoils from the sudden force of heat, drawing away from him and hiding behind his massive body, which is now suddenly engulfed in scorching white hot sapphire-tinted flames. "let them come and see their undoing."
His eyes – still darkened their same impenetrable red – observe him dully as he finally grows tired of murmuring sweet nothings to his precious monstrosity, and soon draws away from him. He does not hesitate, as his body involuntarily begins to follow him, pace steady but lacking in vigor as it had in the midst of an adrenaline-fueled battleground. He pauses to gaze behind him, observing the pooling blood as it coagulates along the frigid surface of the cobblestone floor, but before his very eyes, the product of his carnage begins to fade away. A figment of his imagination, as his heart ached and desperately hoped it all would be in the end.
His memory begins to drift away, to distant sights and scents, to old familiar sensory stimuli that soothe this otherwise rampant mind. He often tucks his thoughts away into the dark recesses of his mind, but it is not so easy to do when the light at the end of the tunnel begins to dim and fade away into oblivion. He follows effortlessly, tense muscles rippling beneath his flesh as he lopes slowly behind the smug man, who once again hums a simple, melodious tune. It fades into the background of his own thoughts, which bubble to the surface stubbornly in spite of his every passionate effort to drown them out.
At last, he is brought to the present – dull eyes observing the otherwise paltry fort that lie ahead. For a creature with such intricate magical abilities, it is small, humble and rather peculiar in taste. With misshapen wooden boards lining the walls, which seem to lean too much in one direction versus the other, cracked block stepping stones (Offspring finds himself uncomfortably uneven in his steps, and so he steps to the side to avoid them) and various color trinkets hung all around. Alongside the oddly designed building is a small trough with crystalline water and a thick pile of hay, though the very thought of consuming it turns his stomach.
He can still taste the viscous blood on his tongue.
The strange man pauses at the creaking door, smiling brightly at the obscenely tall, behemoth stallion that looms behind him – his shadow nearly eclipses his own as the sun hovers behind him, illuminating Offspring in its bright light as it shines onto his starkly contrasted pelt. He draws the door back, and for a moment, he is certain it must be in jest – the door is far too short and far too thin for his own thick body to slide through. He eyes the man with obvious doubt and disdain, but he insists with a gentle flick of his wrist, and with a sharp exhalation of air from his rounded nostrils, Offspring irritably complies.
He is met with no resistance – the door seemingly molds around his thick torso, broad shoulders and even grows in height to accommodate his stature. He steps through and finds his weight heavily placed once more onto a thick plating of cobblestone, and his eyes widen incredulously at the sight that lay before him. Though it appeared to be a measly, simple shack on the outside (so small and irresponsibly build that it must belong to a small troll, or perhaps a wayward fairy too inexperienced to create anything more withstanding), it is anything but within.
The ceilings are high, perhaps six or seven times his own size in height, and lines with intricate, finely cut minerals (quartz in various shades of amethyst, rose, yellow and green, among others) that reflect the refracting light of the unique, curious chandeliers that dangle overhead. The walls are lined with many tapestries, some of a rather strange looking individuals (unusual fairies such as Grumblesnakes himself – ancestors, perhaps?) and others of intricately woven landscapes. In between the many tapestries are heavy, wooden doors, no doubt fortified in one manner or another, indicating that the overly simplified shack is much more than meets the eye.
Still disbelieving, his dark crimson eyes meet with Grumblesnakes' gleaming pair, uncertainty expressed along the tension of his jaw. With a loud, bellowing guffaw, Grumblesnakes reaches to gently tangle his fingertips within his tresses, stroking him reassuringly in a way that both soothes and riles the beast that roars irritably from within. ”I had you fooled, didn't I? There is always more than meets the eye, Offspring. Though I have concealed myself well enough, there is danger lurking and I seek protection. You have proven yourself worthy. I need your assistance. I need your guardianship in the days to come. Will you assist me?"
There is something looming within his intricate question; something that suggests he has no other choice. Alas, an obligation arises and simmers within his beating heat. He feels drawn to protect him, to serve him. Wordlessly, he nods with an air of confidence.
Over the following days, he takes his time in observing each and every room, analyzing the many crevices and cracks of cobblestone and scanning the terrain surrounding the malformed fort for weakness. Escape never occurs to him - or if it does, it remains beneath the tight lock and key of an unnerving calm that continues to penetrate the very fibers of his being. Many urges are drawn forth from something that has lain deep within him, provoked by the destruction he encountered within the walls of the coliseum. He harnesses the power that stirs within to fortify walls, to repair what has been damaged. He evokes magma from his own seeping pores, using it to fill the cracks and crevices of the walls and floors before manipulating the atoms with an icy breath to cool it into hard igneous rock, sealing each space.
As time draws on, he finds himself acutely aware of each and every figurative pin drop - even the slow crawl of an arachnid's eight legs can be heard by his ever-twitching, swiveling ears, and though it makes sleep restless (he stands close to the creaking bedside of his master, drifting off on occasion but mostly focused on the heavy sounds of the evenfall). When his heavy eyelids rise with each disturbance, he searching through the cobblestone walls for any heat signatures but finds nothing but the insignificant rustling of rodents skittering through the stone passageways.
He spends much of his time outside, depleting himself of his energy reserve with something much more powerful than he had ever attempted before. Though barriers were nothing new to him (his own, bittersweet ice fortress was guarded by one - oh, how he missed it and ached for those familiar faces once more), something within his soul urged him to reach far beyond his own understanding and to surge force with every piece of himself to erect something unseen but much more powerful than anything he had ever attempted. While the fort itself was already surrounded by a force field forged by Grumblesnakes' own hands, he had an insatiable need to learn the craft for himself. It was exhaustive work, and though he had once flinched away from the wry, cold touch of the other man, he relented to his constant goading for him to drink, to consume sustenance, for his weakness penetrated too much of his being if he failed to.
After three days, a force field is finally erected around the feeble shack, shimmering with an opalescent light beneath both the sun and the moon, doubling its protection. Occasionally, he would amuse both himself (though humor was often too far gone from his wayward soul now) and Grumblesnakes with a show of epic proportions, throwing immense fireball projectiles, ice blasts and even kinetic explosions at the impenetrable force field - all neutralized by it before any massive damage could be made. Grumblesnakes seemed pleased, often cooing sweet nothings to him, and though it did not tug at his own heartstrings, Offspring felt satisfied that in a time of need, he too could erect a force field. Perhaps even around his own master, at will.
It is beneath the setting sun and the rise of twilight that something deeper, darker and more foreboding begins to settle in. As Offspring begins to lose himself once more to his thoughts, drowning in the woe that continually bubbles within his aching chest at the thought of his children, of his Queen, while the strange (and admittedly intoxicated, and not for the first time) man that leans against his massive, scarred body begins to tremble alongside him. His fingers tangle in his matted tresses as he leans against and clings onto his homegrown guardian, who stiffens at the sudden closeness of his captor, master and manipulator. He swivels his massive head, cheek turned towards him with red eyes glaring, before following his gaze. Above them, beyond the flashing red and silver force fields (both Offspring's and Grumblesnakes') that protect them, a glimmering bubble of red envelopes their own as a shadow eclipses the falling sun and shrouds them in darkness befitting a moonless night.
"They're coming; they're here," He whispers urgently, voice cracking beneath his intense quivering. He buried his greasy, grimy face into Offspring's locks of hair, hiding against the nape of his neck. "this is it, Offspring -"
"Let them come," Offspring booms at last, his silence breaking with a festering rage that begins to surge from within. The halter splits at the very seams, incinerating and falling away as ashes from his terse jawline, which clenches in fury. Though no longer bound by innate calm or forced submission, his ferocity grows and envelopes him whole, and pure white fire burns beneath his flesh, his urge to protect now dwelling within his very soul, breaking apart the magic of his halter. Grumblesnakes recoils from the sudden force of heat, drawing away from him and hiding behind his massive body, which is now suddenly engulfed in scorching white hot sapphire-tinted flames. "let them come and see their undoing."
OFFSPRING
the ice king of the tundra
Abilities: Magma manipulation, temperature manipulation, hypersensitive hearing, infrared vision, creation of force field, white fire manipulation