10-04-2020, 06:57 PM
[quote="crowns" pid='108615' dateline='1601687788']
@[Eight]
CrownS
The curse has begun to put down its roots within the core of him, working itself into his veins and assimilating itself into his every cell. Its effort make his skin scalding hot even here in the north where snow could be found even in the dead of summer. It deigns enough of its strength to Crowns to pluck at Eight and bring him near. The primordial serpent can taste the chaos rolling off him in waves and wonders what might become of this meeting.
Crowns nods when Eight speaks and he offers up a beaming grin. Of course, he always returns to the ones he likes - all three of them, he supposes. He shivers in the frosted breeze that the strange magician breathes over him, but it is a comfort just the same. His own magic pauses its work to observe from behind the child’s dark blue gaze for a while.
He tilts his sapphire and bay head. How did he do this? His wings flutter nervously at the idea as he mulls if over for a moment longer, until Eight declares the feather has given him some strange ability. The curse bares its teeth at the idea that its host could belong to anyone else. Again, his flesh grows uncomfortably hot and he shifts his weight at the feeling. An anger that is not his rises up to spread through his small chest.
“You really think it was me? All I can do is the teeth and scales thing, I thought,” he wonders aloud as he looks down at his small hooves. They look just the same as before, offering no clues as to what’s become of him. The air around his body ripples with the intensity of the warmth permeating from him now. The frost around him melts and recedes from where he stands.
“Sorry, it’s just hard to think with this fever, I think.” His voice is thin and tired. His gaze wanders aimlessly across Eight as the magic burrows deeper into him, devouring every weakness and imperfection it comes across now.
Crowns nods when Eight speaks and he offers up a beaming grin. Of course, he always returns to the ones he likes - all three of them, he supposes. He shivers in the frosted breeze that the strange magician breathes over him, but it is a comfort just the same. His own magic pauses its work to observe from behind the child’s dark blue gaze for a while.
He tilts his sapphire and bay head. How did he do this? His wings flutter nervously at the idea as he mulls if over for a moment longer, until Eight declares the feather has given him some strange ability. The curse bares its teeth at the idea that its host could belong to anyone else. Again, his flesh grows uncomfortably hot and he shifts his weight at the feeling. An anger that is not his rises up to spread through his small chest.
“You really think it was me? All I can do is the teeth and scales thing, I thought,” he wonders aloud as he looks down at his small hooves. They look just the same as before, offering no clues as to what’s become of him. The air around his body ripples with the intensity of the warmth permeating from him now. The frost around him melts and recedes from where he stands.
“Sorry, it’s just hard to think with this fever, I think.” His voice is thin and tired. His gaze wanders aimlessly across Eight as the magic burrows deeper into him, devouring every weakness and imperfection it comes across now.
@[Eight]