EREBOS

He wasn’t alone for long, basking in the heathen textures, the gaping maw, the swallowing, icicle jaws of the icy palace, for no sooner had his voice echoed off of the treacherous walls did another endure the same heavy doldrums. Excitement, not like his, too high, too bubbly, ricocheted and assaulted, tangling over the rubble of his reverberation, bouncing it away with the escalation of merriment. Admittedly, he was a little shocked the vocals pitching from the barbaric barriers and pernicious partitions were not of his own doing, and he struggled to hide the sudden surprise lurking in his rapidly beating heart, in the widening of his gaze. The lithe lad, with his lanky contortions and ever-growing structure, swiveled towards the sound and met the painted frame of a belle, brandishing a sword, a rapier (and he thought about Adelric and their epic cutlass-wielding skills, wondered if she could partake in the same actions, one day puncture and maim, rip and ensnare), and a lavender stare (very bright, reminding him of various wildflowers sprinkled over the fields). She was also frank, candid, and direct, which the little cretin could endure; he often prescribed the same gestures, bold and audacious, extending and brandishing unadorned folly and intrigue. “Hello!” He bellowed back to her in return, listened for the outcry leaping off the chambers, then, quite curiously, eyed their tails as she gestured at their differences. Sure enough, as he glanced back and forth between the two, while his, and many others within his herd, held leonine traits, slinking, serpentine, feline distortions, hers did not, merely elongated tassels matching her mane. Was she mocking him for being divergent from her, or just identifying opposing factors? He shrugged, enjoying his a bit better, as it held a predacious feel, as though he were a carnivore hunting, stalking, hiding in deep thickets and bulrushes as his prey roamed listlessly, ignorant and inept – and he asked her the same query with a tilted head and noble brow. “What happened to yours?”

Unfortunately for the dame, his attention was drawn almost immediately to another approaching – this one so wonderfully familiar, and a rush of excitement built over his frenetic, feverish whims, and almost forgetting the flicka altogether, he clambered towards Adelric. Careful not to slip over the rime and frost littered along the snowy embankment, he was drawn, sketched, entranced towards the spotted lad and the strange glowing object in his mouth. He ceased and paused in his movement merely to gape and stare at the luminescent fixture, because it wasn’t every day that something beamed like the sun and was carried in his friend’s maw; his childish, curious questions flooded over his mind like an unending stream. Was it powerful? What could it do? Was it a container of the Gods, some ambrosial artifact his mother had spoken of, granted to the worthy (and surely Adelric would be, compassionate, caring, and friendly)? His stare held, riveted, fascinated by the object, and followed its path to a nearby bed of moss, distractedly answering the other boy’s inquiry. “Oh, I live on the other side of this mountain.” Preoccupied, he inclined his head in the direction of the Basin, pride forgone for the sake of knowledge. Still rampantly imploring the radiant orb’s containments, he stepped closer, watching as it made the vaguest movement and motion, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he had the opportunity to stop them. “Adelric – what is that?” His voice was a mixture of allure and reverence, and he paused in his meticulous study to glance upwards to his companion’s mismatched eyes. “I think it’s moving!” A grand smile played over his mouth, and gingerly he hoped he’d get to see if it hatched, or erupted, or flared out of its gilded shell, but a loud, booming voice pulsed back over the horizon, and his thoughts were interrupted by its chaotic shambles. Lifting his princely cranium, Erebos furrowed his brow, because what if he missed a crack in the sphere’s outline due to this newcomer, and stared at the stranger arriving in the frozen midst.

Now, her horns were interesting. It seemed in a fluttering matter of moments, he was presented with an enormous amount of intriguing subjects, and his poor mind was occupied with too many distractions, too many labyrinths, struggling to settle upon some singular notion. The filly bounding towards them, scolding and laughing, reminded him of Adelric (the eyes, the marking wired around her leg), but that saber was something else altogether. It didn’t cut from her brow as the other dame’s, his, or even Adelric’s, but stuck out from the side, and he pondered over their use in battle (a spear from the fringe, but never the front?), if they could batter instead of slice. However, in response to her mocking, creepy attempt at some adult-like humor, he inclined his head to the right and merely stared, brow arched, lip curled in a roguish manner as she seemed to inflate and amplify her figure. “What are you doing?” The final suspension, intervention, intrusion (goodness, weren’t there a lot of them bounding across the ice!), came quickly thereafter, floating and fluttering on friendly hellos (so Erebos liked him instantly), winged and horned with a particularly nice gray pattern, exchanging introductions amidst the gaggling bunch of rioting foals. Heaving a singular breath, watching it puff out in curling waves over the icy brink of delusion and destruction, the imp roamed closer (but not too far away from that particular glowing device), because he liked the boy’s feathers, and partook in submitting his name into the fray initiated by Aeolus. “I’m Erebos!”