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04-19-2015, 10:11 AM
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Erebos’ days had been spent in exuberant, wild joviality. The boy had been presented, gifted, granted, and anointed with a precious, everlasting friend, and triumph glowed in his heart every waking moment. It may have been a flow of arrogance, a trickle of audacity, a hint of boldness, but to suddenly find himself bestowed and proffered this priceless gift meant someone favored his tenacity, his grit, his determination, and he could continue to rise, to persevere, through each and every storm. Orsino was a fascinating creature, and together they hastened and collected too many foxy upheavals, derived mischief into deep corridors, unleashed seditious splendor upon the eaves of the wilds or the blossoming, lilting hums of Orangemoon, creeping and crawling their way through unlocked corridors and discovering molten treasures beyond their untamed ambitions and uncoordinated movements. The little beast helped the other cretin forget, or put aside, the tarnished fragments of disappearing or murdered friends, distracting, diverting, from the vengeful swings of violence or the villainous clenching of his jaw. Which one egged the other on was a quandary; they both followed in youthful accord, the black kitsune ambling on toddling, baby steps, the colt flourishing under the spark of power, the sizzle of vibrancy, encountering laughter and fervency in the wake of each other. It was a given they’d settle into a zealous, energetic routine, causing tribulation, exultation, and merriment wherever they wandered, crisscrossing over paths, raising hell across vibrant streams, merely enjoying one another’s company. Some hours the children merely sizzled in silence, connected by their new effervescent bond, coiled in scorching, idealistic, infidel regimes, grinning in murky precipices or staring across vast voids. This instance found them wandering the Arch, a favored haunt, stepping across thick shields of ice, subsequently giggling when either slid, stumbled, or shuffled their way along. Orsino’s chirps and chirrups were the highlight of the child’s day, and they continued returning and volleying their amusement until an eerie cry shattered the innocent diversion. The prince ceased all play for a moment, and the ebon kitsune’s ears swiveled back and forth, both caught and enticed by the rising calamity in an unknown voice, a rising bark, beckoning and prospering across the mountains, the glaciers, the walls and hidden pathways. The colt’s heart froze, still, for a moment or two; the rest of his body clattered in the motionless fray in the same duel, his mind conjuring dangerous, treacherous images of a little golden child, bloodied, dead, slaughtered and destroyed… Then they ran. Like a blue knight and a Stygian blackguard, they twisted and turned through the maze of ice and rime, following, lured by the sounds of panic, by the shirking, teasing, tumultuous lilt, breath billowing in warm, beleaguered puffs, long, lanky limbs trying to find security and footholds across the ardent wake. What seemed like ages lasted only a few instants, and tumbling bout of information overloaded their fallen composures – there was no game to be had any longer. A tiny dog, perhaps as young as Orsino, lingered outside a cavern, desperately conveying measures of importance and unease. His own kitsune tilted his head in rampant curiosity, but Erebos’ attention swerved towards the grotto itself, for echoing off its chambers, rattling its aperture, was a child’s voice, seeking help, assistance, from whatever dangers they’d found. Gallant and feral, the miniature demon stoked the finesse of his resolution and intended to launch himself into the labyrinthine proportions, but as he grew closer, noticed he was blocked in his attempts by a series of fallen ice. He frowned, muttered some combative gestures, then tried to peer through the opaque denizens, managing only to catch the faintest outline, the merest silhouette, of a figure trapped within its clutches. He bellowed across the snare, assuring, tangible supremacy locked within the confines of a machinating child. “Hang on! I can get you out!” The boy almost smirked at the opportunity, the chance, to unleash his power (for the good of rescuing another, of course, and not to feel the flare, the invocation, of the demonstrative potency), and maneuvered towards the ice until his maw touched a center block. Within a moment, the fire, the embers, the coal, the rapture and rupture of his abilities rose across the icy sector in ferocious, savage interludes, exotic and unconfined, reaching and licking and toiling through the melting sanction, his eyes glowing back in vehement, fierce convictions. He only ceased when the floor of the cave was entirely damp and soused, flooded with the unholy crescendo of his talents, and his demonic entity fulfilled. Tag:: @[Ryuu] OOC:: |
