11-17-2025, 12:15 PM
i burn from the hell i've seen, but the devil can't hold me down
He has never known a life outside of his flames. He was born blazing, opening his eyes to the oranges and reds that only fire can create. Their warmth has always enveloped him, filling the voids in his soul with embers and ash. Fire is him, and he is fire. He was born from it, lives through it, and dies by it. Only when the last flame dies and ashes are left, is he reborn from them; whole and brand new again.
Fire is his revival, both spiritually and physically. But he knows fire can be damnation too.
Her apprehension is like a thunder cloud hanging over them. It is a dark thing, bloated and threatening to burst free. He notices it, but he has never been one to retreat from a storm. He can see it on her though, in the way the fire flickers and wanes along her spine. It doesn't die out, but it does seem to be in search of kindling that he will not provide.
He will not be the cause of her combustion; if anything, he will gladly absorb her fire as his own to save her the pain of burning. That is his nature, his purpose, and she seems to bring that out in him more than most.
When she steps forward he meets her, his shadowy shoulder brushing hers just barely. While her flames do not burn him, there is a certain sort of warmth he feels from her skin. "I was born from fire. The shadows came later." he says, his voice rough as if it were laced with emotion.
Finally he remembers himself and steps back, and though he is impervious to fire he immediately feels the cold air between them. With a shower of sparks and swirl of shadows he shifts back, a dark blue stallion with legs and mane of firey orange. "And you Brinly? Have you always been like you are?" There are a thousand things he wants to say, but he settles on the simplest question. Now he can only wait to see if the storms breaks; if so, he doesn't mind dancing in the rain.
fireheart
@Brinly