wolves in our own skin, we're savages; flamevein

[Dá]

wolves in our own skin, we're savages.

Her footfalls are silent as she traipses across equine-imposed borders that mean little to nothing to her. The rules are for those who wish to abide by them; and my Goddess, there is enough of them to make up for one small-statured, quiet mare who is currently wishing no harm on anyone.

The wildfire girl, today, isn't for burning. She is for exploring, searching, wondering. She has never been to this part of Beqanna before, she has never been to most of the biomes in Beqanna before but she is getting there, slowly. There's no rush, never a rush. She is the aimless spirit, the fire without purpose that burns and smoulders and sometimes sputters out into a mass of grey, cold ashes.

She prefers this place to the Deserts so far, but anything ranks hire than that lifeless wasteland. It wasn't completely barren, of course, which saves it from being a place not even good enough to shit in. Life's tough - something that Dá learns over and over again. Found as a mewling heap of soggy black fur, she survived. She shouldn't have, but she did.

And now she is here, with her nose buried in the golden saxifrage.
DÁ

[Flamevein]

some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’ll hold with those who favor fire - R. Frost He is not one to conform or alter his life for something as trivial as rules. He enjoys pushing the envelope, toeing the line, and walking the thin ice. After all, who is to stop him? A magician perhaps, though Eight seemed to enjoy having the pyro tucked neatly up his sleeve should he ever need him. There is no one to stop him, and if there is he hasn’t met them yet. Until that day comes he will continue to do just as he pleases when he sees fit to do it. After all, the say rules are meant to be broken. The nebula-faced stallion knows all to well the feeling of burning without purpose. He is largely responsible for the often charred landscape of the Valley. The fires burn for no other reason than I feel like it. He doesn’t need to burn things, but the ability to do so is something he’s grown quite fond of in his five years or so on earth. Of course, he’d been burning things even before he fell from his mothers useless womb but that’s a story for another day. Today, he is slinking through the forest, bored out of his wits and looking for something, anything really to occupy his time. Idle hands are the devils playground, or so they say anyways. There wasn’t much that needed burning in the dead of winter, though he had melted the snow here and there for no other reason than shits and giggles. The Valley had been quiet as of late, and the stallion was growing restless because of it. So he treks onwards, clearing brambles by way of fire as he sees fit. He is just about to clear a group of weeds when he notices that a mares nose is buried deep within them. She is foreign to him, a wild and reckless looking thing. A smile washes over his features, though it holds no humor and fails to go farther than his mouth. “Well what do we have here…a trespasser, or so it would seem. Eating up our food in the dead of winter.” he coos, cocking a hind leg in ultimate indifference as he looked her over. Perhaps it was foolish of him to be so nonchalant and outright arrogant, but so was his nature. “How about a name, and I won’t summon the king. He’s a downright evil son of a bitch…I’d hate to think of such a pretty little thing being punished.” Of course he was lying through his teeth. If anything, Eight was far more reasonable than Flamevein had ever dreamed about being. “By the way, I’m Flamevein. I won’t tell you how I got that name until a little later.” flamevein fire bending son of carnage and alcippe

[Dá]

wolves in our own skin, we're savages.

And yet here he is, a part of a society that thrives on rules and regulations, that positively needs its members to follow directions to be sustainable. He is a wild card.

She can hear the screaming of the trees and plants as they are consumed by flame. She puts it down to a wildfire, although she hasn't experienced one in such weather conditions before. There's a first time for everything. With her nose firmly buried under a clump of saxifrage, she is distractedly inhaling their green scent.

She lifts her head when he appears, the stallion who stinks of smoke, accompanied by a woeful wailing of the trees around them. She looks at him wryly, an action that seems very out of place on the tresspasser. Shouldn't she be trembling for her life? Alas, she is no rabbit. She listens to his accusations with a cocked head, an amused smile on her face. "Perhaps you wouldn't be so worried about food if you didn't burn it all down,"

"You probably shouldn't threaten me unless you'd like to see yourself as an eunuch by the end of the week," she says, with that same calm, collected, playful expression. This one was interesting, she decides, with his blood hot as fire and powers to match.

At his next words she smiles and takes a step closer. Of course, it's no mystery to anyone, he stinks of smoke and the brambles had been screaming for hours. No, he's not fooling anyone but it's fun to play along. "Are you always this mysterious?" she says, her voice succulent, honey-sweet. "Or is that especially for the big bad trespasser?"

DÁ

[Flamevein]

some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’ll hold with those who favor fire - R. Frost If she only knew. He does not conform because it suits them…he conforms because it suits him. He conforms because he craves the taste of power heavy and sweet on his tongue, and what better way to get there? The stallion is a clever beast if nothing else, and he can easily recognize that the ascent to power is a long and arduous path. Why not enlist help if he could? Joining this kingdom would give him a platform to the top, a springboard so to speak. It was rarely, if ever, that he did anything for the overall greater good. Always he was chiefly concerned about himself and his own somewhat sinister wishes. Perhaps she viewed him as a typical kingdom sheep, but she would be sorely mistaken. He is never the sheep, but always he is the wolf. He grins at her threat, flicking his tail across his haunches in an ultimate display of nonchalance. “Nasty threats from such a pretty mouth…tsk tsk.” he clucks to her, tilting his head as he watches her with curiosity. She steps forward, invading his space, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead he closes the space further, peering down at her with his blue eyes, that queer nebula blaze standing stark on his face. He would not be surprised if she can feel the fire in his veins. He’s often wondered if he was warmer, so to speak, than other equines. It would only make sense. After all, he was born a comet with gasoline in his veins. “I wouldn’t say mysterious…more so I don’t go telling all of my secrets to strange little trespassers who wander into my home with who knows what kind of mischief on their mind.” he says lazily, pulling his eyes from her and looking into the forest. “You know, you’ve yet to give me a name. So who’s the mysterious one now, hmm?” Sighing, he turns back to her. He purses his lips, as if to blow a kiss (if horses could do such a thing) and blows gently. The breath turns to flames, which turn into a hand. From the hand comes slender fingers, which reach for her cheek. He does not mean to burn her, but caress her perhaps, if he were given to such gentleness. Suddenly he inhales and the flames disappear back into their creator. “See, I’m not mysterious at all. Now you know my secrets, so how about a name?” For now he was enjoying their cat and mouse game, and for now he would continue to play along. For now. flamevein fire bending son of carnage and alcippe