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11-23-2015, 06:38 PM
His eyes were riveted and raptured from one dune to the other, patient and stoic, a blue figment on the skyline, outlined and flecked by justified intentions and resolute pursuits. The scion did his best to appear princely and regal, refined and cordial, nonchalant as the striking, scorching air brooded along his lungs and through his chest (he already yearned for the indulgence of the Basin’s bitter breeze) – he didn’t know how long he’d have to wait on the sands, scouring and plunging, hoping and clinging. Instead of lingering on the bestial claws of the noxious heat, he imagined draconic flares and barbarous wars, fledgling soldiers rampaging across the dastardly shoal and firing their ambitious rockets; warriors nestled between rock walls and chiseled islands. He may have even amused myself with pictures of what the inward chassis looked like, contained, had Orsino’s sibilant hiss not ricocheted across their connection. They were no longer alone. Truth be told, he’d expected guards and soldiers, grimaces and barbarity, smug, immoral lined-mouths and a growling petulance, flying knights patrolling the skies, waiting for him to threaten, to warn – But this was a child. He stared, gaping in reserved silence, confused, befuddled, and torn over what to do next. He’d prepared a speech in his head, memorized it along their sojourn to the crimson wasteland, but he’d been eager to deliver it to a beast in charge, to someone who could lead him to the dun girl. This one, young and tender, fragile and delicate, furnished in the oils of dried, acrid, rancorous worlds and mismatched gazes, likely couldn’t bestow or grant him anything. Orsino draped himself between the lad’s forelegs and stared, mute and unforgiving while Erebos bit back a sigh. Was he doomed, damned, thwarted again by the cumbersome path set before him? Perhaps too stubborn, too resolute, too obstinate and inflexible, he was determined to make the most of it – to try to get past the child guardian. The scion outfitted his features in the most genuine, disarming state: a pleasant smile, without the ruffian shades, an eager, polished grin, without the impish, cretin designs, an amiable, charismatic slate to his clever blue eyes, settling their gaze upon the youth. No lies, no trumpets, no wiles or schemes – pure and innocent, charismatic and affable, no matter how far he wished to delve into the sinister, savage outlooks. “I’m Erebos, of the Aurora Basin.” He could understand the notion of protection surrounding the dark girl, with her unimpressed physique and her reluctant, restrained heart, he could comprehend the need to safeguard those cherished, those beloved; but he wanted to avenge the ones he’d lost. Her comrade, this Zenobia, could aid him, if he managed to sneak and slither his way through each and every barrier. “I mean her no harm. In fact, I was wondering if she could help me.” The boy’s ears flicked once or twice, alarmed at a sudden burst of noise from within the center of the unknown, uncharted land, a raucous din, sounds and clamors he’d heard before because he’d been thrust within mayhem and blood, bedlam and ichor. Eyes ghosted and coasted along the horizon, but didn’t catch anything out of the ordinary, and were drawn back to the girl rapidly, speech continuing as if there were no distractions. “We met during a conflict – I believe she and I have a common enem-,” his conversation ceased the moment he saw a glimpse of an ivory dragon hovering beyond them, past the gates and through the sands, deep into an oasis he’d never seen, never witnessed. His eyes widened, and a sentiment of absolute rage clouded over his skull; he thought he knew that flying lizard, that petulant beast, that menacing sway of wings and molten enmity. They cooled quickly, even if his blood didn’t. He didn’t look back to the child, only talked as he stared into the abyss, into the confusion, into the fray. “Is there a battle in your land?” OOC;; TAG;; @[ ] "talk talk talk" |
- table by Niki -
@Aelin
