.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
He raged.
This was not the silent rage of boiling in his barrel, nor the outer rage of burning eyes and angry words. This was rage. In every sense of the word. Violent, uncontrollable, aggressive.
The giant had left the sandy shores, hovering on the precipice of control. Before, when he had been in the Flats, there had been a similar anger in him. But that had been directed inward, for he had created his own isolation. And then… then he had not known the devastating power of his anger. It had sprung out of him, with the advantage of surprise. It did not have that now. He controlled the beast… well, partially.
But then, on the Flats, had been a sadness pushed and manipulated to anger by the newfound magic within him. This, today among the trees, was a fury in its own right. He had lost a love, once. It had lead the the ruin of an empire. Now, it was leading to the ruin of a man.
He had walked and walked, legs laboring between walking and trotting; attempting to use these ceaseless motions as a way to tame himself. As he always had done— walked from the Edge, walked from Dorobo, walked across Helovia. But it was a futile endeavor. Perhaps he knew this, perhaps that was why had had walked away from the Edge— to spare it his demolition.
Because, as he finally reached a part of the forest where the trees were so thick that he could walk no further and his hide began to heat and tremble, he knew there was no controlling this. Emotions swelled, heat and red filmed his darkened eyes. His demon cackled, ‘You are no King. You are no soldier. You are a vanguard of vengeance. You are a man whose existence burned his family alive. A man who cannot hold the love of a woman, not even a Thief.’ The great Elephant crashed to his knees beneath this onslaught in fruitless supplication.
And suddenly this demon, this monster, wasn’t just a voice anymore. It was him, hissing and heaving with hungry hands reaching and grabbing for power. His chest burned with the anger, with the desire, and out from his chest exploded the calamitous beast, the force throwing up back up to his hooves. The elephant of flames, with ignited ears waving and trunk raised in a silent and flaming trumpet, swung its tusks as it searched for a victim; someone to burn.
But, as the Elephant King (now enslaved to this rage) had intended, there were no victims to be found here. Yet the beast still charged, finding the nearest and largest of trunks, not to be denied its explosive destruction. Its detonation did not disappoint, the angry spray of lava splattering on him in this close range while infuriated flames licked up the thick pine trunk. Sap crackled in the heat, adding more fuel to the lonely inferno.
Rage and aguish were such heavy burdens. And his knees, one burned and one bleeding, trembled once more beneath the weight. Dark eyes stared, empty and blank, while he internally wavered. Was he satisfied? Was this enough?
This was not the silent rage of boiling in his barrel, nor the outer rage of burning eyes and angry words. This was rage. In every sense of the word. Violent, uncontrollable, aggressive.
The giant had left the sandy shores, hovering on the precipice of control. Before, when he had been in the Flats, there had been a similar anger in him. But that had been directed inward, for he had created his own isolation. And then… then he had not known the devastating power of his anger. It had sprung out of him, with the advantage of surprise. It did not have that now. He controlled the beast… well, partially.
But then, on the Flats, had been a sadness pushed and manipulated to anger by the newfound magic within him. This, today among the trees, was a fury in its own right. He had lost a love, once. It had lead the the ruin of an empire. Now, it was leading to the ruin of a man.
He had walked and walked, legs laboring between walking and trotting; attempting to use these ceaseless motions as a way to tame himself. As he always had done— walked from the Edge, walked from Dorobo, walked across Helovia. But it was a futile endeavor. Perhaps he knew this, perhaps that was why had had walked away from the Edge— to spare it his demolition.
Because, as he finally reached a part of the forest where the trees were so thick that he could walk no further and his hide began to heat and tremble, he knew there was no controlling this. Emotions swelled, heat and red filmed his darkened eyes. His demon cackled, ‘You are no King. You are no soldier. You are a vanguard of vengeance. You are a man whose existence burned his family alive. A man who cannot hold the love of a woman, not even a Thief.’ The great Elephant crashed to his knees beneath this onslaught in fruitless supplication.
And suddenly this demon, this monster, wasn’t just a voice anymore. It was him, hissing and heaving with hungry hands reaching and grabbing for power. His chest burned with the anger, with the desire, and out from his chest exploded the calamitous beast, the force throwing up back up to his hooves. The elephant of flames, with ignited ears waving and trunk raised in a silent and flaming trumpet, swung its tusks as it searched for a victim; someone to burn.
But, as the Elephant King (now enslaved to this rage) had intended, there were no victims to be found here. Yet the beast still charged, finding the nearest and largest of trunks, not to be denied its explosive destruction. Its detonation did not disappoint, the angry spray of lava splattering on him in this close range while infuriated flames licked up the thick pine trunk. Sap crackled in the heat, adding more fuel to the lonely inferno.
Rage and aguish were such heavy burdens. And his knees, one burned and one bleeding, trembled once more beneath the weight. Dark eyes stared, empty and blank, while he internally wavered. Was he satisfied? Was this enough?
Tembovu
the Elephant King
@Mauja bae <3 Tembo went boom.
Please tag Tembovu.
