Fire flowed through their veins.

The brothers ran. There was fire fuelling their energy, crimson lava generating heat and motion, charred carcasses barely contained it as they tumbled across the lands. It was always this way after a fight. Madyrn had slept for a solid day after he unleashed the fury that was his weapon. Maskan stood by him, awaiting his brother to rise once more from the lowest of lows that come after once experiences the height of emotion. Madyrn's climax was his rage - the anti climax was his depression, his agony, the abysmal darkness that then threatened to swallow him whole. Maskan knew not to let it settle in, and so he urged the sibling into a race, a challenge, an activity to distract, to exercise, to exorcise the depression. Both brothers were capable of hiding most any emotion, but they still needed an outlet - their emotions were still prone to overloading.

As was a common trend for their family, physical motion was often the best outlet. Exhausting the body often tricked the mind into being just as exhausted, just as drained and allowed it space enough to virtually 'restart', to see the day in with a new outlook. They left their prisoner in the hooves of fellow warriors, they promptly put her at the backs of their minds, forgotten for all intents and purposes for this new day. Ash and dust billowed up behind broad hooves as the thick plates crashed down upon the earth, racing at a speed with which they have previously engaged in upon these very lands. Memories of the burns that afflicted their legs caused a tingle ripple across their body, as hair stood on end, and they received the equine version of goose-bumps. They blinked, as simultaneously, the vision of a dragon flying towards the Sun God in the sky above them roared, as their focus was upon nothing but their sister, their beautiful, moonlit little sister, being drenched in flames that they could not stop. Dampness upon their napes reminded them of the misty cloak they were once gifted, of how it had likely saved their lives, and that of their sister, albeit scarred, battered, broken - they were all alive.

But then their eyes opened once more, and they saw in the skies ahead a mass of white, a bundle of feathers and fur, beak and feline , claw and paw performing their ritualistic dance, and they know their sister to be infected with the same raw, wild, uncontrolled emotions that they are. Smiles cross the chiselled faces of the brothers, as their deep voices announce their obvious presences, arched napes holding their majestic crowns tucked near their chests. Madyrn moved with some stiffness, but he hides it well enough, ignoring the pulling, pinching, ripping sensation of scabs breaking across his shoulder. The brothers movement is executed with such precision, their legs blend together to form the dance of the flame about their sister, crimson socks licking the ground just the same way fire dances upon kindling. They are the fire, the predator, and within their orange eyes they behold their prey, their food, their fuel - their sister.

She was their drug, their heroine, their crack, their addiction. Only a single dose and they were snared, like mackerel in a fisherman's net, the more they moved, the more entangled they became. It was deadly, or so it felt, fatal if they escaped this snare, fatal if they remained. The sin was so close, and yet, they resisted it - they had to. A strange pulsing seemed to hum from the figure of their sister that they danced around, hooves pounding into the earth with a steady rhythm, and as one the brothers each looked up at her - and saw her for what felt like the first time.

If they had been caught by her before, now they were consumed by her. The magic seeped into their bones, rolled over them, through them, like violent waves against a rough cliff face. She was the ocean, and they were lava flowing from a coastal volcano, their molten, fiery ways were halted by her, as their orange gazes followed her in a hypnotic stupor. Everything she feels, she desires suddenly drives them now, and without thought propelling their actions, they are in motion again - this time far more violent with their actions, far more carnal, more primitive, more hungry for the end result.

Every so often the brothers would move and clash together, great titans throwing their weight around into each other, teeth ripping shreds off each other, drunk and crazy madmen on this night of indulgence and lust. Each time they fell together, something told them to stop and fall apart again, and to keep chase of their little moonbeam, lest she escape them for good. Tension builds across the brothers' loins, and they know not in which order a duty was served, but dutifully and beautifully, it was done - both were expended and neither felt the guilt, the immorality, the strangeness that should accompany such a tri-bred coupling.

And that was because it was right, it was meant to be this way - it never could have been any other way. Blood had not bound them to this girl they called their sister, until now - now, blood would truly bind them, and they would be a whole family, dancing their rhythm of stars and moonlight, suns and fires forever more beneath the celestial banquet of the heavens above.