07-03-2016, 08:55 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
He plays with the animal, if you could call it that, twisting a smoke serpent around it’s middle. It couldn’t really harm the creature, it were just a smokescreen, a breath of sooty air let loose to do the King’s bidding. There were no eyes to blind here, no lungs to rob of clean air and so it was mostly for show that he did this- well, and for amusement. So little fun was to be had these days, everyone had lost their sense of humor and little opportunities for enjoyment presented themselves infrequently at best.Come to think of it he really hadn’t had it out for anyone for a while, not until recently.
Their cries call her but the resounding footsteps that thunder through the shadow world are not what he had expected to hear. Rumors were that the girl had changed, become a monster in her own right but this intensity was altogether surprising nonetheless. Beneath him the ground trembles as she approaches, announcing her coming like the herald of a brass trumpet. Around him the wolves become static in their presence, an electricity almost pulses through them at the Queen’s approach and he remains alert as he waits.
When she does come, she is no girl. In the place of a mare is a scaled creature, feral and ancient in its making and he does not have the word for what it is called. He does know that it is something that could eat him, something tells him so deep down in the marrow of his bones. And the noise, the rattle of a call that reverberates in its throat is both eerie and beautiful. The flash of teeth is unsettling at best, but the voice to invade him is the same- that it seems, the Valley could not change. Her words bring the ghost of a smile to his sooty lips, and his hooves sizzle beneath him as the lava meets the dry earth. “Oh? This wolf?” he says playfully, as playfully as he can against the gravel of his deep baritone.
He does release it though, the smoke unfurling it’s snake-like neck and slowly seeping back to Killdare where it absorbs. “Can’t hurt the silly things anyways, not like that,” he claims huffing soot past his nostrils. “Besides, I smell miles better than he does,” his charcoal head flicks in the direction of the approaching warrior. Killdare can smell and almost feel the ice prickling up the brute’s obsidian skin, it opposes his heat for one and that is perhaps why. When he does turn his burning eyes to the other he can see the shield of frost he’s made, a layer of second skin in a sense and this amuses him as well.
“Well, far beyond overdue. I’m afraid he’s right,” his head nods in greeting to Offspring as he turns once again to the looming beast before them. “Not quite sure I agree with myself on this one,” he manages, looking over the slick scales, obviously referring to his own hand in putting the Gates girl here in the first place.
Their cries call her but the resounding footsteps that thunder through the shadow world are not what he had expected to hear. Rumors were that the girl had changed, become a monster in her own right but this intensity was altogether surprising nonetheless. Beneath him the ground trembles as she approaches, announcing her coming like the herald of a brass trumpet. Around him the wolves become static in their presence, an electricity almost pulses through them at the Queen’s approach and he remains alert as he waits.
When she does come, she is no girl. In the place of a mare is a scaled creature, feral and ancient in its making and he does not have the word for what it is called. He does know that it is something that could eat him, something tells him so deep down in the marrow of his bones. And the noise, the rattle of a call that reverberates in its throat is both eerie and beautiful. The flash of teeth is unsettling at best, but the voice to invade him is the same- that it seems, the Valley could not change. Her words bring the ghost of a smile to his sooty lips, and his hooves sizzle beneath him as the lava meets the dry earth. “Oh? This wolf?” he says playfully, as playfully as he can against the gravel of his deep baritone.
He does release it though, the smoke unfurling it’s snake-like neck and slowly seeping back to Killdare where it absorbs. “Can’t hurt the silly things anyways, not like that,” he claims huffing soot past his nostrils. “Besides, I smell miles better than he does,” his charcoal head flicks in the direction of the approaching warrior. Killdare can smell and almost feel the ice prickling up the brute’s obsidian skin, it opposes his heat for one and that is perhaps why. When he does turn his burning eyes to the other he can see the shield of frost he’s made, a layer of second skin in a sense and this amuses him as well.
“Well, far beyond overdue. I’m afraid he’s right,” his head nods in greeting to Offspring as he turns once again to the looming beast before them. “Not quite sure I agree with myself on this one,” he manages, looking over the slick scales, obviously referring to his own hand in putting the Gates girl here in the first place.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
