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03-09-2015, 03:18 PM
Ulrik felt the hairs along his withers stand on end as a voice, clear as day, spoke behind him. The stallion raised his brows, looking over his shoulder and seeing the god of time just standing there. Ulrik towered over him, but that did not reduce the intensity of his strength or presence in the least, and the engineer turned to face him, careful to avoid stepping in the churning blue lava. The God was power, strong, but lacking all social normalcies, he did not bow or incline his head.
Instead, he blinked curiously, listening to his questions and shrugging his shoulders slightly by evening his stands beneath his weight. He all but forgot about the sweat leaking down his chest fluff, and Kirchoff was, for once, stunned into silence, gaping in awe at the god. "It gets used," he explained, that being the easiest answer. "I assume it was worth it because of that." But Ulrik desperately wanted his magic back. He could create and do so much more with power than he could with just a tent.
"But I have plans and work to be done," he pointed out. "In order to do so, I need your gift of spark, and I hope that I have waited an appropriate amount of time before coming to bitch at you like everyone else." Ulrik was generally irked at the desperate clinging to magic, and he had never once quested in his life. The gods had more important things to do than pander to his kind, but since the god told him to visit, here he was.
"What might I do to earn your favor back?" He asked, direct and to the point. He was not one to waste time, even though this god had eons of it to spare.
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