06-11-2016, 10:11 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
He remembers greatly and perhaps more importantly, vividly, the day she left. Killdare recalls the sight as if it were burned into his eyes, into his very memory and indeed, it was just that. Singed by great measure everlasting into his thoughts, branded there for eternity for him to mull over when the night came and his brain ruled his restlessness. It was not likely that he would soon ever forget when she had turned tail and left, he hind disappearing into the pines. Stock still he remained as she went, he could not call her back, he would not, not when she had cast him aside as though he were nothing and what is more- for a moment she had made even him believe that very thing.
For a time he had succumbed to the pain he had caused himself, for a moment he was for all the world to see, ‘lost.’ Lost? A Chamberling? A King? Yes, even Killdare was subject to all things mortal, he was no God, he was no maker or undoer, not yet anyway. Would he ever be? It’s hard to say what may and may not come in the years but for now he was no longer somber over the leaving of Dacia. Killdare was a King, he had a country to preside over and somewhere deep within the reaches of Beqanna he had faced the power of her undoing him and decided he had not been undone after all. Who was his mistress? The Chamber. Who would always be that very thing? The Chamber. Oh, and a jealous and all encompassing thing she was, let him spurn her not for that in truth would be his final downfall.
When the wolf comes the King does not ask why because he knows the sound, the edge of rippling guttural noises that issue forth from his savage maw. He doesn’t ask, nor does he proceed forth with haste, he would come as he pleased and he would receive the wolf at his door, make no mistake.
It is true that even now the Magma Lord held no ill will to the boy was horse and lupine all the same- for now at least. Even as the creature snarled for him to come forth, even as he made demands that no King should follow.The hurt he may have unintentionally caused their family he had never sought, when Killdare had thought long and hard on the subject he was assured he would be just as angry. Well, perhaps with a different sister he would have been, Killgore was not an easy creature to love. Still, what was done was done and in the end what matters is that Killdare came, as was his duty. Steadfast and true to a fault, even Straia had seen it, had she seen how much hurt it would cause him too? Did she always know the price he would pay with his proverbial riches and glory? Surely she must have.
Ash and dust purges itself from the nearest opening in the treeline, parting before the shapeshifter until Killdare molds into view.Charred and blackened, as he most often is, crackling beneath with the fires of the Earth and he simply stands before the younger man, bearing witness to the anger that washes over his raised hackles. “You have my attention Lupei, I will not pretend that I do not know why you are here.”
For a time he had succumbed to the pain he had caused himself, for a moment he was for all the world to see, ‘lost.’ Lost? A Chamberling? A King? Yes, even Killdare was subject to all things mortal, he was no God, he was no maker or undoer, not yet anyway. Would he ever be? It’s hard to say what may and may not come in the years but for now he was no longer somber over the leaving of Dacia. Killdare was a King, he had a country to preside over and somewhere deep within the reaches of Beqanna he had faced the power of her undoing him and decided he had not been undone after all. Who was his mistress? The Chamber. Who would always be that very thing? The Chamber. Oh, and a jealous and all encompassing thing she was, let him spurn her not for that in truth would be his final downfall.
When the wolf comes the King does not ask why because he knows the sound, the edge of rippling guttural noises that issue forth from his savage maw. He doesn’t ask, nor does he proceed forth with haste, he would come as he pleased and he would receive the wolf at his door, make no mistake.
It is true that even now the Magma Lord held no ill will to the boy was horse and lupine all the same- for now at least. Even as the creature snarled for him to come forth, even as he made demands that no King should follow.The hurt he may have unintentionally caused their family he had never sought, when Killdare had thought long and hard on the subject he was assured he would be just as angry. Well, perhaps with a different sister he would have been, Killgore was not an easy creature to love. Still, what was done was done and in the end what matters is that Killdare came, as was his duty. Steadfast and true to a fault, even Straia had seen it, had she seen how much hurt it would cause him too? Did she always know the price he would pay with his proverbial riches and glory? Surely she must have.
Ash and dust purges itself from the nearest opening in the treeline, parting before the shapeshifter until Killdare molds into view.Charred and blackened, as he most often is, crackling beneath with the fires of the Earth and he simply stands before the younger man, bearing witness to the anger that washes over his raised hackles. “You have my attention Lupei, I will not pretend that I do not know why you are here.”
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
