whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Nerine (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=91) +------ Forum: Taiga (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=86) +------ Thread: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch (/showthread.php?tid=27936) |
whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - crowns - 10-02-2020 CrownS He grows acclimated to his new temperature a little more every day. Crowns is still impossibly uncomfortable, but he has grown bored of laying in the den being babied by his mother. Of course, he loves the way she dotes on him and his father’s affections are certainly welcomed. It’s just that they won’t play with him for fear of handling him too roughly or letting him push himself too hard. The boy wishes that he was somewhere colder, with someone who wouldn’t coddle him. Then he blinks and the world around him changes. The air is shockingly crisp and cold, with winds that blow harshly against his warm cheeks. Crowns gives a little squeak of surprise as he stumbles backward. Oh, but his strange friend is here. The colt offers him a tired grin and edges closer to Eight. Did the feather bring them both here, he wonders? His skin doesn’t burn quite so hot here in the frigid shade of the Taiga forest. Maybe his dark tutor sensed his fever and drew him closer to the ice and snow. Regardless, he is thankful for the change of scenery and he doesn’t care to dwell on the how or why of it. “Hello again!” he chirps cheerfully. “I don’t feel so good, but it’s a little better here.” He spreads his dripping wings so they chill in the autumn wind that sweeps between the charred but towering redwoods here. Then, he draws them close and sighs in relief as they soothe the blistering heat of his skin. “Did your feather bring us here?" @[Eight] crowns thinks this snow business is A++ RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - Eight - 10-03-2020 eight mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy smirk @[crowns] heeeeeere we go! dream team.. UNITE! RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - crowns - 10-04-2020 [quote="crowns" pid='108615' dateline='1601687788'] CrownS The curse has begun to put down its roots within the core of him, working itself into his veins and assimilating itself into his every cell. Its effort make his skin scalding hot even here in the north where snow could be found even in the dead of summer. It deigns enough of its strength to Crowns to pluck at Eight and bring him near. The primordial serpent can taste the chaos rolling off him in waves and wonders what might become of this meeting. Crowns nods when Eight speaks and he offers up a beaming grin. Of course, he always returns to the ones he likes - all three of them, he supposes. He shivers in the frosted breeze that the strange magician breathes over him, but it is a comfort just the same. His own magic pauses its work to observe from behind the child’s dark blue gaze for a while. He tilts his sapphire and bay head. How did he do this? His wings flutter nervously at the idea as he mulls if over for a moment longer, until Eight declares the feather has given him some strange ability. The curse bares its teeth at the idea that its host could belong to anyone else. Again, his flesh grows uncomfortably hot and he shifts his weight at the feeling. An anger that is not his rises up to spread through his small chest. “You really think it was me? All I can do is the teeth and scales thing, I thought,” he wonders aloud as he looks down at his small hooves. They look just the same as before, offering no clues as to what’s become of him. The air around his body ripples with the intensity of the warmth permeating from him now. The frost around him melts and recedes from where he stands. “Sorry, it’s just hard to think with this fever, I think.” His voice is thin and tired. His gaze wanders aimlessly across Eight as the magic burrows deeper into him, devouring every weakness and imperfection it comes across now. @[Eight] RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - Eight - 10-04-2020 eight mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy smirk @[crowns] RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - crowns - 10-04-2020 CrownS The unbridled magic coils tightly around the boy’s heart when Eight runs his fingers over its infinite scales. It bristles at being examined and so it returns the favor, dipping unseen talons into the thick of him to see who or what he is. The nameless monster sees the blood and the feather - the seeds that allowed it to take root here and nurtured the crucial first moments when it began to bond with Crowns. But then he speaks directly to it and it listens carefully. He makes promises and requests. It loosens its grip on the child’s heart, and the boy gives a sigh of relief. Crowns lifts his gaze to meet Eight’s when he explains that he can do all things. All? His brow furrows at the thought. He is too young to grasp the possibilities just yet, but he nods as he believes he understands. The child sucks in a breath when Eight’s cold nose touches to his chest. The endless serpent swallows the magic given to it, greedy and eager for the strength. And then it completes its work - it dives deep into his bones, weaves itself to every strand of his DNA, and carves its image over his soul. Crowns cries out in pain as the heat around him erupts into blue flame now, licking at the ground and the tree limbs above them. It burns away his mortality and chews through his every flaw, licking its fingers clean. The boy stumbles back and collapses to the ground as the fire suddenly dies out. The dirt is stained black with the inferno of his rebirth, smouldering and smoking around them both. His chest heaves for breath while his hummingbird heart flutters between his ribs. Crowns trembles in shock as he searches Eight’s face for some answer. “I don’t understand. What.. What’s happening?” he whispers. Strange new memories play out in his mind, and he doesn’t quite understand what they all mean. The names all come to him and yet he’s certain he’s never met them before - Ghaul, Adna, and Larva. Countless others all rushing up without him beckoning them. He does not fear the strangeness of it, but he finds himself exhausted like he’s never known sleep a day in his life. “I don’t feel so sick anymore,” he says suddenly. @[Eight] RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - Eight - 10-04-2020 eight mind my wicked words and tipsy topsy smirk RE: whatever i touch just melts in my clutch - crowns - 10-12-2020 CrownS The newborn magic chews through Eight and assimilates all his memories into the others it has collected. It puts a little shard of him up on the shelf next to the ones who came before: Maggot, Cobain, Larva, and Ghaul. The curse had been impure in their hearts but now, distilled, it flows freely through the child’s veins and leaves none of their madness in its wake. The ancient serpent makes room for the magician’s life down in the marrow of Crowns’ bones and then, finally, it rests. It has carved all their names into his heart and it is content with its work. Slowly, bit by bit, Crowns finds the strength to keep his legs from trembling. He digests all the new memories and lifetimes as they no longer flood his throat and choke him. There is only a quiet understanding as he devours the entire history of Eight’s life as well as the others. Their choices made sense, at the time, despite whatever chaos ensued. He sees this and he accepts it as his body accepts its newfound strength. His wide blue eyes observe Eight as he speaks, hardly blinking as he clings to every word. They don’t make sense, at first, but the viper gently feeds the words to him until he catches on. “Anything?” he echoes, and something inside him answers, Anything. Crowns dwells on the question a while and thinks of his father, of those frost-covored scales and how strong they are. Even his mother’s fangs can’t find a way to break through them. The boy furrows his brows and slowly, inch by awful inch, flames lick across his skin. It burns away the fine baby hair of his mane and his newborn coat to leave armored dragonscale across his body. The weight of them is heavier than what he is accustomed to. He turns his head and observes himself now, posing this way and that to appreciate the way he glistens now. “Am I still me, though?” he asks, suddenly worried as he turns to look back at his friend. @[Eight] |