± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
Dawn breaks the pine canopy of the Chamber and the King rouses, yawning away his sleep and blinking into the growing light. Wisps of soft amber and yellow light break through the prickly pine needles, resting just so against his lids so that he simply could not hope to slumber still. It is somewhat strange to wake without the sound of cawing birds, even if once he did find them rather annoying, it was still something notably missing.
Autumn is slowly fading and with it the season, Killdare wonders how many new lives will grace them even against the aftermath of War. All he knows with certainty, is that there will be no new life this spring due to himself and it is no longer a task he takes on lightly. With luck it would be something he would be expected to do soon, and for more reason than just furthering his lines.
When at last he blinks away the sleep, waking himself further by treading through a creek, he finds Nymphetamine. It has been an awkward friendship, made even more so by the facts of his spy mission coming to light. In the end though, the man had chose Chamber, that would have to be enough- actions in this instance must need speak louder than words alone. Isn’t that better in the end?
Upon leaving he also leaves his skin behind- in a sense. Shedding the growing hair for something warmer, letting the thick magma overtake him him whole where it settles to his skin in a blackened armor. Within cracks violent red and orange threaten to break free, hissing bursts of heat spouting from containment in the form of steam. Killdare had never once been to the Kingdom of the Brotherhood but one thing is for sure without visit- it was damn cold.
He offers enough conversation to Nymph to keep the silence at bay but it is not something he is best at. They may have a better time knocking each other around the Chamber clearing for fun but it is work they must do now. Killdare has set a task before them, one that will either flourish beautifully or one that will come to fail in a dismal downward spiral. Either way he stops just before the borders, the icy winds unable to breach the heat of the Earth’s core that flows through him. A loud bugle bursts from his maw in a cloud of black smack and burning ash, claiming the stillness from the drifts and hopefully alerting the nearest sentry.
Autumn is slowly fading and with it the season, Killdare wonders how many new lives will grace them even against the aftermath of War. All he knows with certainty, is that there will be no new life this spring due to himself and it is no longer a task he takes on lightly. With luck it would be something he would be expected to do soon, and for more reason than just furthering his lines.
When at last he blinks away the sleep, waking himself further by treading through a creek, he finds Nymphetamine. It has been an awkward friendship, made even more so by the facts of his spy mission coming to light. In the end though, the man had chose Chamber, that would have to be enough- actions in this instance must need speak louder than words alone. Isn’t that better in the end?
Upon leaving he also leaves his skin behind- in a sense. Shedding the growing hair for something warmer, letting the thick magma overtake him him whole where it settles to his skin in a blackened armor. Within cracks violent red and orange threaten to break free, hissing bursts of heat spouting from containment in the form of steam. Killdare had never once been to the Kingdom of the Brotherhood but one thing is for sure without visit- it was damn cold.
He offers enough conversation to Nymph to keep the silence at bay but it is not something he is best at. They may have a better time knocking each other around the Chamber clearing for fun but it is work they must do now. Killdare has set a task before them, one that will either flourish beautifully or one that will come to fail in a dismal downward spiral. Either way he stops just before the borders, the icy winds unable to breach the heat of the Earth’s core that flows through him. A loud bugle bursts from his maw in a cloud of black smack and burning ash, claiming the stillness from the drifts and hopefully alerting the nearest sentry.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
@[Nymphetamine]
@[Offspring]