"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
It was humid.
When was it ever not?
There was a stagnant thickness to the air that had been, at one time, stifling to him, but he had grown accustomed to it and instead, he felt enveloped by it. Embraced by it. Thus, the volcanic island had become his own. He had once thought it impossible to feel that he belonged anywhere else but the frigid tundra from whence he came prior to the rumbling, reformation of the Reckoning, but time had inevitably proven him wrong, and the tendrils of swaying vegetation caressing the length of his heavy, muscular legs and the growing plume of smoke rising up from the crest of the volcano itself were soothing to his wild but weary soul.
He could not stay still for long.
He had spent much of the day on the western border, his gaze settled somewhere out onto the voracious, angrily churning sea - it is not often so untamed, but there is a cloaking of darkness in the distant sky along the fading horizon. A tempest is coming, brought forth by the wayward wind, caressing the length of his body and entangling itself within the matted tresses that lay haphazardly across the thickness of his neck. He had watched it move closer, mile by mile, its shadow descending upon the island and with it, a thin veil of warm rain.
It is trickling across the surface of his skin, tempering the vivid flame of his exoskeleton that danced across his dark, but heavily scarred flesh. He is unmoved - the rumbling of the storm reverberates through his chest, stirring a faint, but fleeting smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. It reminded him of the cruel and unforgiving snowstorms he had endured while in the land of ice, and the frigidity of its harsh gale - but the monsoon is soothing, in a way - a cloaking of warmth, blending with a soft but subtle gust. He does not prefer one over the other.
It is simply another experience amid a thousand others.
When he does finally pry himself away from the shoreline, he is plunging himself deeper into the volcanic isle, moving seamlessly toward a steaming hot spring that lay near the base of the rumbling volcano, beneath a sparse copse of foliage. It is quiet, but not eerily so. Overhead, a collection of fowl glide toward the sea, their crooning voices breaking through the silence, while his dark gaze catches a glimmer of gleaming fire amid the golden grain.
The shadow of a smile has returned, pulling at his mouth as he moves closer, observing the feather entangled with her wild and unkempt tresses. She is undoubtedly wild and beautiful, but not unfamiliar to him - she had sought out Tangerine on the day of her birth, and though he had kept at bay, he had seen enough to know that she had come with no ill intention in mind.
Alas, now, she is alone, as is he.
”You must be Jah-Lilah,” he murmurs, his voice a rumbling baritone while his gaze searches her own. ”I am Offspring - I am the Overseer of Tephra,”no longer a King - it had never felt the same, not after the Reckoning - not after hundreds of years of history had been stolen away. ”you are a friend of Tangerine, then? Not much gets past me.” He muses, a low chuckle emerging, and then, ”Welcome.”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
08-16-2017, 03:17 PM (This post was last modified: 08-16-2017, 03:18 PM by Jah-Lilah.)
Jah-Lilah
Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation...
The air hung all around her, thick, heavy, weighty. It made Jah feel sticky. She had forgotten how the mixture of the sea and volcano created a tropical feel to this part of Beqanna. She'd been milling about undisturbed in the shadows of Tephra ever since Tangerine had dropped her twins, and it had been pleasant for her. She had grown comfortable in moving wherever the wind took her, and so far had been unencumbered by any wayward creatures trying to claim her. Today she had found a lovely little clearing in the fading light and was playing with the fireflies. As they light up and communicate with one another, my dream catcher calls forth quiet little sparks of electricity, answering them in kind. She had coaxed nearly one hundred of them to accompany her to her thicket, and she was completely mesmerized.
Their meeting is suddenly cut short by a small bout of warm summer rain. It tickles down her sides, darkening her copper tones. Her feathers are dripping and her mane is stuck to her neck, Jah is no fool, she immediately terminates her light show. She sighs, mildly disappointed, but understanding that the Earth-Mother must water her flowers. She stretches, reveling in the sudden shower, all sorrows forgotten as she allows the rain to cleanse her spirit and her body. She sneezes, clearing water and debris from her nostrils, and is suddenly aware of another. She senses him before she sees him, steps heavy with the weight of the world, Beqanna's own Atlas. Her ears swivel and her body soon follows as he reveals himself to her and speaks.
His voice is deep and rumbling, like a faraway thunderstorm, and although he seems gentle enough, Jah-Lilah is on edge. She is still an unclaimed thing, trespassing in this man's territory. Her muscles are tense, but she bobs her head in greeting. "Hale, Ashes-of-the-Earth. I know you, Beqanna wears your hoof prints all over her." Her emerald eyes lock with his ruby ones, and she reaches out to exchange breath with him. She inhales and blows heavily, jerking her head up as she locks in his scent. Sparks literally fly from her hooves unexpectedly as she is still learning to control her gift. It is stronger than the cologne he leaves all over the place, and he smells like cold and hot all at once. She reaches out again for another round. "Aye, I am she that you speak of. I only came to see Spotted-Seer, and her younglings. I appreciate your welcoming me here. I will depart soon, trust in me." She shifts her weight, snorting low, keeping a watchful eye on him.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
He had been watching.
As he always had; as he always would.
His own sullen heart had learned long ago to beat at a slow and steady pace, unhurried by the heavy burden of time, his skin, his thick and broad bone structure, his thick muscles untouched by age. He moved more deliberately than most, observing each minute detail of every passing day. At one point, long ago, he had lost himself somewhere within the dark recesses of his mind, where the weight of his mostly guarded secrets lie still and laden with the dust of a hundred years or more – but alas, he had been awakened, stirred to life and thus, moved into action.
She is as unhurried as he, languishing within her own existence in a way that he cannot ignore – she is wild, unwieldy, and he is intrigued. A faint lacing of humor has woven its way into the dark inflection of his burning gaze, settled steadily upon her (though flickering, for a moment, to the sparkling current sputtering from where she is so firmly planted – ah, fire has come to know the pure energy of electricity, at last).
And yet, though he, himself, is at ease, she is not.
There is a discomfort in her posture – a rigidity he had not seen in some time, and as the realization settles heavily on his mind, he can hardly suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his dark mouth, where neatly teeth lay bare with the quirk of his grin. ”Rest easy, Sparky,” he muses thoughtfully (Ashes-of-the-Earth, he thinks. I like that.), his gaze once more tracing the thick muscle of her shapely legs to where the electricity had emerged haphazardly mere moments ago. ”I am too old to claim the company of those who do not want it; you need not be afraid of me. My harem days are long behind me – over a century ago, in fact.”
A pause, his gaze averting elsewhere, to where the rumbling of a distant storm has touched the edge of his worn and weary border, where the volcanic ash had met with the sea. ”Times have changed. As have I, and I do not permit any to behave out of line within Tephra. As such, you are welcome here as long as you desire to stay, and free to come and go as you please.”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
He laughs and calls her Sparky, reassuring her that he wants no parts of her. Now that her freedom is not in jeopardy, her mind is able to take in all of him. He is big, bigger than any equine she's ever seen in all her years on the mare's back, and dark. His color is that of the charcoal shadows from whence he emerged, but splattered with pink. The scars that criss cross all over his pelt like a road map excite her, oh the stories he could weave to her under the cover of moonlight, she thinks. His eyes are crimson, but not the thick and heavy like blood, they are light and dazzling like gem stones. They are the only thing light about him. His hair falls, dreaded and unruly along his neck, and she can appreciate the haphazardness of it. When the smirk plays again on his lips, he is almost handsome. Jah-Lilah likes him already.
"Sparky, indeed. My apologies, I'm still trying to master this new talent, I'm about sick of shocking myself overdoing my voltage. Although I must confess, I almost singed the pair of us, playing with the Earth-Mother in all this rain." She laughs, an impish grin spreading across her face. She reaches up and lips at the air beneath his chin, tossing her head. "On the bright side, now that the owner of this land has given me permission to come and go as I please I don't think any others will bother me. But, if they do Ashes-of-the-Earth, I'll just zap them." She turns and invokes a small firework of electricity behind her tail, wagging her eyebrows at him, both simultaneously pleased and impressed with herself.
"Now then, I've been dying to know about the sleeping giant of Tephra, yet none seem to be able to give me any answers. Will you teach me of your volcano? If anyone could sing me the song of your land, surely it must be you." She nips his shoulder and smiles at him coyly, tail flagged in excitement.
...Slowly, gently, night unfurls its' splendor.
stronger than you know
OOC: Sorry, I promise the other one was better, lol
