Condemned to Predetermined

"Nonsense." He rumbled, crowned head tipped to the side as he strode after his little sister. Kid and Zhu's absence had thrust upon him the mantle of the elder brother, something that he didn't take lightly. To let Vezer wonder off on her own was an abhorrent thought in his mind, so he followed as any guardian would. Proud and stoic, his crimson eyes trained on her slim form. Cloven hooves easily navigated the debris of withered roots and tree's beneath them, the occasional snag of his too long hair an after thought which rippled through his mind languidly. He'd grown again, everything about him was once more changing as he entered the final, awkward stages where he would evolve from colt to stallion. Soon it'd be over, and he thanked his Grandfather for that, the youthful days of his life dragged along slowly and then all at once, only to halt his delight by slowing down once more.


Tyrath stayed at a respectable distance from his sister, enough that she could feel free to move and do as she pleased, but close enough that should something strike, he would be able to rush forward in an instant and let the magic within him bleed through in a rush of ash and smoke. Golden scales and savage teeth would defend her with his life, for now. It appeared that it'd be a simple enough outing, they would clear away dams and streams, perhaps collect bones before they returned to their father.

He stayed hidden out of sight, or out of sight as his magic allowed, as Vezer settled on clearing a stream. Neck craned to see what may have prompted her to clear this one, and not another. It appeared that his little sister had a soft spot for creatures lesser than them, something which struck a warm chord within his flaming chest. A woman soon revealed herself and the chord changed in a twist of flames and a snorted breath, fortunately, she appeared to bear no ill will toward his sister and so he stayed quiet, eyes narrowed on the exchange. Tempted to answer this Weaver from his shadowed place and explain the nature of the world they were in, he refrained.

It wasn't until the young colt appeared that he too, stepped out of the shadows toward his younger sister. Ears pressed forward to catch the young boy's words, and he found himself rolling his eyes. Not that they would know, the brilliance of being born without pupils. His eyes remained unreadable pits, but their stare had a penchant for making the unprepared squirm. The unpleasant grind of his fanged maw punctuated his appearance, as did the fire which burned within his body, the eerie presence of his ribcage painted in shadows for everyone to gaze upon. "We do it because we must." He stated, tone matter-of-fact. "It is the price we pay for living within their land. If the God's did everything, we would grow fat and demand they do everything for us." He stilled as he approached his sister, hooves sunk into the soggy bank and barely brushed the surface of the water. "Besides, most mortals are the cause of all the shit which has afflicted Helovia. From over feeding ego's to being power hungry assholes. Why shouldn't we clean it up?"

From his sister he glanced to Weaver, and then Zubari. Part of him idled on whether he should give his name, or simply tell Vezer that they would find a better place to collect debris and skulls for Kisamoa. Another part of him protested, and with a resigned sigh and a shrug of his feathered wings, he too began to drag the branches and dead vegetation from the water. A Prince casting of his golden cloak for the many, dirtying his hooves because it too was his burden, an elder brother bonding with his baby sister. "Tyrath, Prince of the Dragon's Throat."