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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  Boy of Fire [Warrick]
    #1
    Phoebus

    The sun had just begun to set when he calls for him. He’d been hugging the volcano’s base, staring at the lava as it came down in flowing cascades down its sides. His father used to take him here, used to let him stray ( “not too far, Phoebus...”), used to let him admire the beauty that was Tephra. 

    He loved this land like his father had. It held his heart - he knew no matter where he went, he’d have a piece of Tephra with him. He’d taken his leave, saw the rest of Beqanna, met with a few interesting horses, but he knew - 

    It was time to dedicate himself to his home now. It was time to protect it. 

    With the reveal of this “Morty” character taking an evil hold on Sylva, he had to protect what was his. What was his father’s ( “Ellyse brought me here, my boy, she showed me this wonderful home...our home.”) dream was now his. 

    But his father was gone now, his mother gone too. He was never taught the ways of a warrior, never taught how to protect. It came naturally to Diable Rouge (he’d fought his entire life), but Phoebus was raised gentler, with a kinder approach. He’d been too young to join the alliance, and too young for Longclaw’s training session, but he was not young now. 

    He’d grown to be a large sixteen hands like his father had been. Muscles protruded from the crimson of his coat, and lanky legs could carry him long distances. If it hadn’t been for the blue of his eyes and the armor on his coat, he’d be a mirror image of his father. But now, there is only one man he knows here that can tell him what he must do. 

    “Warrick!” He calls out, fire armor blazing with the heat of the volcano. Hopefully he’d come, hopefully he’d listen. 

    He just wanted to make Rou proud.

    Boy of Fire
    #2
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    The glow of the lava is almost spiritual as the sun begins to set on Tephra, the blazing round sphere halfway beneath the horizon of the wrinkled ocean. The sunset burns the atmosphere, setting it aglow with deep oranges and vibrant pinks, all the while the incessant glow of lava illuminates the shadows and fights through the seeping darkness. The volcano groans with anticipation, rumbling shakily somewhere beneath its warm hearth of rock and stone, spewing ash and smoke from its precipice. Warrick is at its base (most long-lived Tephrans find comfort near the volcano, while the newcomers are more cautious of being so close), just having emerged from the underground grotto where he normally rests. Tangerine is there, curled up with their quiet daughter, Marble, and safe for the night. The Overseer breathes in the stifling heat of the night air, his cerulean gaze falling across the blackened shoreline of the ocean with weary but content eyes.

    A flick of his ear turns backwards as a gentle and familiar call comes to him on the wind. The stallion snorts, his wings fluttering at his sides as he turns towards the voice, returning with a call of his own so that Phoebus could meet him halfway. 

    The Overseer easily finds Phoebus; not only had he been close by, but the glow of his body is richly vibrant, the same molten color of the lava that slowly treks in streams around them. Crickets have begun their nightly chorus as the final rays of sunlight fall across their bodies, Warrick’s robust figure illuminated in the warm glow of Phoebus’ armor as well as the volcano’s magma. The heat does not bother the osprey-King; he even finds comfort in it, warming his feathers near the younger stallion as he draws up before him. 

    “Good evening, Phoebus,” Warrick offers in greeting, noting how much the stallion has grown (and reminds him immensely of Diable Rouge, who he dearly misses). Stars have begun to appear in the open expanse above them, winking sleepily in the blue-black sky.
    Warrick


    @[Phoebus]
    #3
    Phoebus

    The sun sets, darkening the world around them. The only thing that shone through the night was the lava, still cascading to the ocean, and his own skin, illuminated with flames. Warrick looks haunting in the low glow of fire.

    “Warrick,” Phoebus begins. He’d never personally talked with the Overseer, although Rou and him were good friends. Diable Rouge had always noted the King’s kindness, however, so he swallows his nerves and continues. “I know you know of my father’s absence. But he loved Tephra, and he raised me to love it too…”


    (No one had told him about his father’s death.

    It had been years. Diable Rouge was but a speck of dust on the Tephran beach now, but Phoebus didn’t know that. He’d just assumed Rou had disappeared like Ellyse and Dahmer and so many others). “...I want to protect it. I want to protect all who live here, just as my dad did. But I don’t…know how to fight, or where to begin to prove myself...” He’s so young, so painfully young and inexperienced, stumbling on his words. He takes a deep breath “...Warrick. Teach me. Teach me how to be strong like you, like my father. Please.”

    Boy of Fire

    @[Warrick]
    #4
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    “Your father was a good man.”

    There is a solemnity in Warrick’s eyes that is unmistakable, a reverence that overcomes his entire stature - still and unwavering, yet soft in the way he remembers his dear friend who had been taken from the world far too soon.

    But legacies continue, and Diable Rouge’s blood continues on within Phoebus; the idea allows a gentle smile to fall across Warrick’s once stern face, the corners of his cobalt lips turning upwards. The boy (though not so much a boy anymore) has called to the Overseer for one of the most loyal and brave things that Warrick can think of, for one so young. The osprey-king smiles easily, a slow nod given to Phoebus in a gesture of understanding.

    “As long as you are willing to learn, you will never fail, Phoebus; not truly, anyway.” There is a glimmer of laughter in the stallion’s cerulean gaze, sparkling with the magma below them and the fire that dances on the red roan’s hide. Warrick curiously watches the armor, lifting his chin slightly to get a closer look, though staying a good distance away so that he would not singe his flesh. He had been badly burned by the volcano once in his life - thankfully Amorette had healed him - but the scar is still there, dull and barely noticable on his chest, but there. He is ever cautious now, with the fire and the lava, for it is known to be unpredictable.

    Like battle.

    He snorts softly, thoughtfully, as he reminisces his battle with Kagerus. An armor like Phoebus’ would have been helpful (any defensive barrier, to be honest) and Warrick already can see that the younger stallion has a slight advantage with his ability. “Beqanna has blessed you with a gift. Before you can protect anyone, you first must understand your power. If you understand it, you can use it. Explain it to me. Is it always there? Can it be controlled? Turned off? Made hotter?”
    Warrick


    @[Phoebus]
    #5
    Phoebus

    He is awash with relief when the Overseer does not send him packing (not that Warrick was like that to begin with, but that damned voice in the back of his head was quite the asshole). Breathing out slowly, he listens to Warrick’s questions.

    Truthfully, he hadn’t used his powers for anything important. But he did understand them, and he had practiced (lonely hours by the volcano left a lot of free time to hone his ability), so he takes a few timid steps back.

    “Well…” He begins, trying to concentrate his mind. It was different, doing something in front of someone, especially since this someone was Warrick. “I tend to keep my armor alight most of the time, but…” Like a candle being blown out, he extinguished his flames. It starts from his neck, traveling down the length of his back, and soon he just looks like any other horse. “I can turn it off.” He grins.

    He focuses his energy on his leg, beckoning the flames to rise. At first, it is a soft red glow, and he lets it rise up his leg and around his body, almost like a vine creeping up an old brick house. Hotter… He thinks to himself. Can I make it hotter?

    Flames burst around him, glowing white. It cracks and sizzles, unpredictable and out of control like the volcano beside them. He is sure that Warrick can feel its scalding warmth. “Its certainly useful.” He says gingerly. He can control his power, but there is no use in it (at least not in battle) if he doesn’t know what to use it for.

    Boy of Fire
    #6
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    Having no abilities of his own (save for the grand plumage that cascades from his withers), Warrick is more than interested to see the depths of Phoebus’ ability. He found it poetic that the young stallion has been given a token of fire in the kingdom of the volcano, just as Amorette had been given healing in the way of the flames and smoke. The Overseer watches plainly as Phoebus turns off the armor, nodding with intrigue as the roan starts it up again. The temperature easily and quickly escalates, and suddenly Warrick is reminded of the volcano itself, where the spewing magma drips from the very top of its epicenter. The bay stallion even goes so much as to take a step back, wary at the sudden amount of heat and flames rising from Phoebus’ armor. Warrick smiles, nodding in agreement as he takes a step closer, inspecting the stallion’s shoulder with a curious gaze. “It’s good. A solid defense is more important than any attack. Use it, protect yourself.” He thinks back to his battles in the alliance, and how Kagerus’ antlers had pierced into his supple flesh with ease. Armor - especially one of fire - would have kept her from doing so.

    Warrick snorts and lifts his head, curving his neck slightly in a poised manner. He paws the earth beneath them, rich with spring rain and nutrients, damp beneath his hooves. “You must become comfortable with your body, with or without your armor. If you are not agile - too slow or hesitant, it will be your downfall.” The stallion takes a giant, sweeping step backwards, lowering his head slightly. It is a good distraction, giving Phoebus little tips and tricks he has learned from his days in the plains, and it is a distraction he is thankful for. Warrick snorts sharply, pressing his chin to his chest and finds adrenaline coursing through his veins.

    The only way to truly learn, is to learn it yourself.

    The Overseer does not hesitate to lunge at Phoebus, even with the fire of his armor glowing brightly. He rears up, but does not attempt to strike with his front hooves. He slams down on his forelegs, pivots, and kicks out with his hind end in a buck. He does not kick with full force nor is he really attempting to make any contact - the lesson here is to be prepared, to be ready, to be one step ahead. Warrick leaps forward once his legs touch the ground, whirling to face Phoebus with a breathless smile while the ends of his tail blossom in billows of smoke from where they had traced his armor.

    “Never let down your guard.”
    Warrick


    @[Phoebus]
    I didn't plan on this becoming a 'training' mock, but it did anyway! Phoebus can take the hit or not, it doesn't matter. Just two boys practicing together. :3
    #7
    Phoebus

    It is relieving to know that he already has an upper hand on others he chooses to battle. A solid defense is more important than any attack… Warrick informs him, and Phoebus nods.

    His armor was a great gift the fairies had given him, that was for sure. It could be used to counter an attack, heighten his own attacks, but most importantly protect himself. He lets the fire recede to a soft orange glow, listening to the advice Warrick gives him.

    As he ponders, he hardly notices the way the bay stallion shifts, readying himself for an attack. By the time he notices, Warrick is but five feet away, picking up the front of his body into a rear. Phoebus braces himself, eyes closed. He lets flames engulf him in a blistering white glow that stretched out a good twelve inches. He isn’t trying to hurt his mentor, so much as keep himself from feeling the pain of the Overseer’s hooves.

    Never let down you guard… The burly voice of an experienced man repeats in his mind as Phoebus’ cerulean eyes open. It would take time, practice, for him to understand the art of war; but he knows, with the help of Warrick, he can make his father proud.

    Boy of Fire


    @[Warrick] Phoebus totally was not prepared. Lmfao. Warrick can send him off to do something/learn something or he can mock with someone else. Up to you, he's ready to prove himself Smile




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