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03-25-2015, 06:06 PM
The lanky, growing scion was led once more by the molten interludes of fire and brimstone, spellbound by the warren of flames, by the infernal entanglement of the Sun God’s prowess. Instead of staring openly, with a loose, slackened jaw, or an unhindered, widened gaze, he stood resolutely to the side, studying, examining, scrutinizing. He’d come before the deity several times before, enchanted, beguiled, ensorcelled by the unburdened, broiling infernos, by the lava and embers, by the coiled, curling ashes and fallen bits of coal. The divine being represented power, like so many careening and tumbling throughout the world, and all the lithe lad had ever yearned, had ever craved, were for those raw sentiments of potency. They were embedded within his own soul, fighting for moments of supremacy, tangling in seditious splendor when his emotions indulged, when his anger quivered, when his rage surged; and even one, the grand, pulsing beat of fire, managed to emerge through sheer force of will. The miniature beast loved knowing he had the potential, but relished in the notion that it could become stronger, grander, richer, much more devastating, a heathenous, fervent ruin, a rapturous incantation of chaos, of bedlam, of mayhem, and who better to serve than the embodiment of fire itself. Erebos’ stare peered towards the illusion, listened adequately to the directions, and wondered what he’d see in the veil, angling himself closer to see into its depths, bear witness to whatever delights, invocations, or disregards pummeled him from the murky brine.
Figures appeared, one right after the other, all recognizable forms galloping through the haze. He saw spotted Adelric, followed closely by Tobias, and then sparks and flickers of Aithniel, grand and potent, soaring along the skies. Rikyn meandered nearby, snickering and smirking, maybe at their latest joke or adventure, and Asch and Arwen, both so golden, so gilded, were tucked along the shadows, inviting and beckoning him into their sanction, into their sector – and for those few glorious moments he was reunited with all of his friends again. No one had disappeared. No one had wandered off to a new world. No one had met their demise by a cruel fiend. A piece of time long since past, dwindling as the days stretched into seasons, and seasons into cycles, the illustrious, woebegone instances where all their potential had meant something to the ice, to the snow, to the mountain tops, before everything broke away, fractured. The boy smiled, brought into listless euphoria, becoming lost in the refuge of olden days, when the world was theirs, promising everything and nothing all at once. He didn’t want to look away, didn’t want the vision, the hallucination to fade, so he continued to stare, yielding to its potency, as his vocals churned through the mist and fog and catacombs. “I see my friends. We’re all gathered together again, like we used to be.” He took a deep, raucous breath, tried to ignore the quaking, shuttering, saddening sound it made. “I miss them.”
OOC :: Erebos sees his friends, even those murdered, gathered all together again.
Questing for upgrade to fire magic.
Refusal One Refusal Two
