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12-30-2015, 08:12 AM
The princeling was always enticed by some measure, some level, of intrigue. There were too many wiles, too many stories, too many snares buzzing, pervading, and billowing through the world to not be enamored or beguiled by their interesting ploys, their curious features. He absorbed and brandished and wanted to know the world for what it was and for what it could be; how he might be able to shift tactics, how he might be able to conquer lands, demons, and foes, how he might be able to annihilate and obliterate. Ode’s words struck synapses and sentiments spiraling about his cranium, latching onto the Machiavellian regards with a healthy snap, ears flickering, brow lifting, head tilting, all resolved to catch every syllable his cousin offered. These Gods?, he’d said, as if there were many more left undiscovered and unknown, rampaging through the world in silence and power; and the boy yearned for the details, led right down the primrose path. The fact that he’d met other Gods – holy beings not belonging to their meadows, hills, and valleys, devout cretins and otherworldly creatures springing up from lands well beyond their reach – was enough to warrant attention and questions, lingering queries and uncertainties. But how did he know about them? Erebos had been taught some legends of Isilme by his mother, and all their gods, their descendants, the ties and binds, and he knew about the ones here, harsh and unyielding, blunt and obliging, but what of the others Ode spoke of? His voice was all curiosity, all song and dance and wonder, mouth slightly agape, beholden to the pieces the older boy had to bestow. “What have you seen-“ But he was cut off, segmented elsewhere, attention snared by the newest arrival; someone, or something he’d never seen before. Riveted, he stood in utter silence, eyes widened all the more, studying, examining, and wondering over the being that had floated their way – and while Ode simply questioned with whatever came to his mind, the smaller cretin took his time. The younger boy was a combination of wings, feathers, and metal, as if long ago someone had tarnished and dragged and tried to annihilate him with only miniscule results (here, Erebos pondered if the outcome would’ve been the same with Aithniel had he not stopped Zikar-Sin from his studies, if she’d been ripped apart and thrown away). But the Pegasus child didn’t seem hindered, didn’t appear to mind the obvious difference in his movements and motions; perhaps that was all he’d known in his short life. So instead of following Ode’s multitude and barrage of queries, the blue scion lowered his head to meet Zekle’s level, furnished his mouth with a friendly, affable grin, and proffered greetings. “Hello! I’m Erebos!” He ignored Orsino’s harsh, unrelenting stare towards the child, eyeing the juvenile as if it were an easy target, feasible prey, and chose to glance at the strange little beast resting on the lad. His expression took on one more curious endeavor and his mind twisted into content, delighted contortions – because here, he’d been given enough enigmas, enough quandaries, enough riddles and puzzles to learn, fascinate, and eventually devastate. OOC;; --- TAG;; @[ ] "talk talk talk" |
- table by Niki -
