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He was always attracted to fire. Maybe because it blazed within him, potent and enduring, coaxed constantly from a state of confusion or rage. Maybe because it bled through his lineage, crossed from wires and lines of Ignatius the Firesword, and his glorious infernos. Maybe because he contained its magic, its magnificence, within his own frame, and now that he’d managed to conjure it, to hold it close, to touch and incinerate, he merely wanted to do it all the more. Like a craving, like an addiction, spreading the embers and coals wherever he went, spoiling, avaricious and toiling: There, amidst the frozen arch’s coast, was a spark, was a promise, was a whisper, triumphant and beholden, of fire. What if he was to get more? What if he could ignite further acrimony? Further potency? Further prowess? How powerful could he become, in this gateway of immorality, of repose, of transgressions and mixed contortions, distortions? The princeling made his way down towards the rocky, chilling shoal, gaze fixated on the glowing orb within the iceberg, how to reach it, how to ensnare it, how to make it his. There was another on the outcrops and embankment, a spotted stallion, and his scrutiny darted for one moment from the beautiful, breathtaking light, to the other’s powers, entangling further into the ice; eyes widening, entranced by the vision. Then, he realized, he could summon his own magic, couldn’t he? Wouldn’t he be able to do something? He held enchantments, invocations, rituals and rites, had practiced and honed them in the dead of night or the crisp, holy barbs of day… Erebos’ narrowed gaze lingered upon the water. He could roam towards the massive shell…and then what? Would someone else have an idea? Could he use his fire to melt it quicker (and what thereafter, be the reason for everyone’s failures?)? His brow furrowed, deep and brooding, before exploding in a series of quick, rapid motions, sliding across the water’s edge, away from the chain of ice, calling out to others beginning to gather around the threshold, likely just as beguiled, just as allured, as he, inclined towards the mysterious siren song. “I can walk on water!” He tapped on the waves with one hoof, confirming his dominance over Poseidon and Neptune’s reign, sovereignty, and kingdom, an emir of the shore and ocean, then shouted into the crowd, hoping his actions were wise, uplifting. “If anyone has any tool to use, I can bring it there!” OOC;; Summary: Erebos uss his ability to walk on water to get closer access to the orb in case it falls. He also asks if anyone has any tools he can use to dig through the ice. Wishlist - Trying to upgrade fire magic (for more damage). Prior Refusal TAG;; @[ ] "talk talk talk" |
- table by Niki -
