Newly apointed advisor and returning son of the Plague. How I have grown since my younger days, Pyr! And you, a white child of sleek pelt and confidence that grows each day—what might beasts we are! I run at your side, my potential form my guise as I spread my wings and feel the rush of the frostfall chill ruffle my feathers. As much as I enjoy my place among the Plague's ranks, it is refreshing to spend time alone so that I might reveal myself as I have become. Though I ache to take wing I stay grounded, letting your soft body brush against mine as it churns and tilts forward at a gallop, and letting my mind converse with your own.
I have not thought of you as racist until recently, brother
Strange, what I have not told you. But Pyr, it is not for the addition of a feature, for a horn, that I scorn another, but for the lack. I dallied once among inferiors, wondering if I had been lead astray by the supremacists of the Plague, but the sand-spitters only proved their ill-worth, brother. I bear wings not as a sign against my race or in support of any other, Pyr, for I am outside race. I am immortal; in my own right, I am a god.
Then why join the Plague? If you are above their belief, why deign yourself to sleep beside them?
For war, my brother. Even if I see even their ranks to be foolish and inferior, burdened as they are with life, I trust that they can start a fire and keep it well fed.
But when, Prometheus? You said to the spotted yourself, war has been nowhere on their minds.
In their own time, they will create it. And with me at Mauja's side, with the power and influence of a king and a plague at my disposal, nothing is stopping me from being the spark. So many questions today, fire-cub.
One last question, brother?
Of course, Pyr. I have grown accustomed to your voice, it's becoming to be a dark day when I go without it.
Who is that?
I turn my gaze away from you and through the few flakes of snow falling from the trees at the meadow's edge, rustled by a frostfall breeze, I see a plain and mortal beast. Instinctively my wings fold to my side, and when the familiar pain of the sun god's magic fire melds them to my flesh I barely flinch. I've grown used to the sensation, and my attentions now focus on the mare who stands so foolishly alone.
She is hornless, a target in her own way. As a member of the plague I feel a forced sort of duty rise in my throat, even if I owe my talents to no one. When I step forward from the wood I take care to let my lion-tipped tail brush away each cloven hoofprint I create. There will be no evidence of my presence here, I think to you as a grin alights my glowing eyes.
After all, it takes nothing more than evidence to start a war.
"Far too lovely a day to spend alone, isn't it?" I call from the shadows with the full-bodied voice of the magically living, revealing myself a being with glowing eyes and the tall, handsome figure of a living stallion. You follow at my heels, ever loyal, copying my stealthy reveal by brushing your tail over each pawprint.
For as I approach this mare, murder on the mind and war in this heart that beats by magic alone, a plan begins to form. Taking advantage of the odorlessness of this form, I approach her as if an innocent. "Tell me, mare, from where do you hail? I come seeking a home and family for myself and my bonded; a strong leader, to guide me," I continue, a stupidly fake sort of emotion crossing my features. "Do you know of a place like that? Of anyone you can call your family?" My questions perhaps seem innocuous enough to the trusting or untrained ear, but you and I know full well my intention. I hear your questioning tone ringing in my mind, but I do not let it sway me. I will bring us glory, Pyr; today is the day that I'm going to start a war.
[[I hope you don't mind if he learns a bit about her first? Thanks for picking Theus, I'm excite. :3]]
—
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png]](http://i250.photobucket.com/albums/gg246/abbie3321451/abbie3321451131/siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png)
