SWP :: Through the Fire and Flames

the Rift

SWP :: Through the Fire and Flames

Erebos Posts: 474

Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE

Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather

#17

09-16-2015, 06:30 PM

Erebos wore confidence like most cretins wore treachery: full of conviction, prospering with determination. The world often set him aside, usually informed he was no more powerful of a being than the next blistering beast, but the feverish tenor of his mind refused to part with the notions contorted within: he’d survived a fight with a God. He hadn’t been alone in the fray, he hadn’t been the only one combatting the strange, unwinding forces at work, but he’d also walked away – with mere burns splashed across his chest – surely that had to mean something? That he was potent? That he was lethal? That somehow, someway, he’d be worth all the might, all the dominance, all the supremacy stirring along his veins and mustering past the webs of his deceit? Or was it a case of normalcy; the right place, the right time, bearing witness to another rite of calamity, another spark of disdain and discord and disrepair, juncture and splintered towards each and every soul in the chosen land? He was naught special, a prince by name and not by action? The latter left him frowning even as he followed the wayward scent of Rikyn, spied him along the outcrops of another world left untouched, his pondering anointing and consecrating him only to the ruin of queries and iniquities: what would it take to become great?

He maneuvered slowly amidst the mass, minded the raw wounds still blistering and scorching along his skin, and nearly jumped at the image of the grand Sun God, master of flames, patron of infernos. The bestial lad’s own ruminations of fire, of sparks, of barbaric interludes crossed amongst his mind, and Orsino basked in the glory of it all, cackling across their connection, pressing and entangling his wicked delusions into mystical speculations: neither fiend knew why the deity was here, glowing and welcoming creatures to Helovia (but then he remembered the prior incident, and glanced for newcomers, for others so unlike any he’d ever seen before). The boy didn’t bother to mask his acclaim for the celestial being, managing a billowing bow, a notch to his chest, an extended grin to his father veiled along the outer wall, before maneuvering closer to Rikyn, tumbling about his menacing, mischievous grin, and ceasing entirely at the rumbling, hackling sound emanating from his friend. Yards away, his head tilted, ears pricking at the din of illness, at the hollowed swell of crackling lungs. Orsino refused to budge – diving between their connections with growing alarm. No go! No go! Sick sick sick! Erebos, for all his greed, for all his avarice, couldn’t bellow impudence, loathing, and insurrection while his friend remained indisposed. “What happened to you?” he whispered along the mist, through the abyss, not realizing how much he’d missed from prior incidents.

[Bows to Sun God. Stands yards away from Rikyn.]