02-14-2025, 09:00 AM
❤
Beqanna sleeps deeply, in a silent slumber, hibernating until its next magical mood swing perhaps. Everything is still here, but so quiet. Bodies move and shift, creeping along the dark summer shadows, their voices hushed and their conversations dreadfully boring. Although he’s much enjoyed his break from real life – from violence, love, politics, family, everything – the time to come alive again is apparently upon him. He’s slept his days away too long, lounging in the rich sunlight in whatever shape he wanted. Today he travels as himself, a big shapely black stallion with milky white markings splashed across his front and speckles to about his abdomen and back end to match. His coat is sleek and shimmering, bearing his scars loudly in grayish-white against the inky black. His snake companion is wrapped securely around a thick braid in his mane. The python’s iridescent scales catching the light perfectly as Chem moves through the shafts of daylight piercing through the canopy above.
The Chamber.
The smell of smoke, timber and mists is so familiar – and something else, something without a name. His ancestors thrived here once, and he too has found a home here on and off, but it’s never been again what he knew as a child. And never again what the stories of old speak of – a great empire, a formidable threat, a fierce force. Its fire has died; left to fizzle out and eventually letting its coals to cool.
If he called them out of the dark, would anyone be here?
He knows the center of the territory well, picking out the overgrown path that was once busy enough with foot traffic to keep it clear and making his way to the charred tree. He spends the afternoon pushing stones in a precise spiral around the blackened trunk. A tribute only he may understand; a mysterious prayer. It takes one powerful breath of fire to ignite the tree (which while miraculously be unharmed and go back to what it was before). The fire burns high and bright, a beacon to anyone left, or anyone who might want to come.
The Chamber.
The smell of smoke, timber and mists is so familiar – and something else, something without a name. His ancestors thrived here once, and he too has found a home here on and off, but it’s never been again what he knew as a child. And never again what the stories of old speak of – a great empire, a formidable threat, a fierce force. Its fire has died; left to fizzle out and eventually letting its coals to cool.
If he called them out of the dark, would anyone be here?
He knows the center of the territory well, picking out the overgrown path that was once busy enough with foot traffic to keep it clear and making his way to the charred tree. He spends the afternoon pushing stones in a precise spiral around the blackened trunk. A tribute only he may understand; a mysterious prayer. It takes one powerful breath of fire to ignite the tree (which while miraculously be unharmed and go back to what it was before). The fire burns high and bright, a beacon to anyone left, or anyone who might want to come.
CHEMDOG
*sets the big tree on fire*
just seeing if anyone is around to revive the place
also to clarify i figure he can use his mma shifting to breathe the fire but if thats uncool i'll fix it
<3
