OOC: FYI Kushiel is under new management, I was lucky enough to get him off PMP. So don't be surprised by any sudden/bizarre character shifts.
His mane had been singed off, like some burned snake weaving its way down his neck. For days he had sported a blazing crest of fire from his ears to the nape of his neck. But the bloody things had kept him awake, the little tufts of flame he had knitted together to make something beautiful. No one could sleep through their glorious burning. So, Kushiel had passed out this morning, nearly collapsed from exhaustion. When he woke up his flame had gone, leaving the smoking wreckage of his mane where there had once been fire.
The rest of him would not burn, but he must keep the flame away from his tail.
Kush had not been born with the capacity for shame, or at least that’s what he had been told. It was hard to be embarrassed when you literally burned with the intensity and heat of fire. His appearance did not bother him, but the sense of loss was harder to bear. With his flames extinguished he could feel the tree calling him. The bloody Chamber Tree, in all its glory. The nearest fire wanted him, needed him, and he wanted it. He wanted to roll in it, lay in it, soak up the fire until it ran from his eyes…
With a start he shook the junkie look from his eye and moved away from the Chamber’s burning tree. He didn’t need any more flame right now. He needed something else. Food perhaps? Water, most definitely. Sleep, by the angels yes. Yet it was the flame he wanted. With some effort he swallowed his desire. He didn’t do it often, but he could deny himself.
The steely, dapple gray of his coat matched the sky, and the mist that always haunted the chamber. Kushiel breathed in the wet air. Once autumn had surrendered body and soul to winter, he would be in a right foul mood. The rain drops that hit him would sputter and hiss, as if he were the demon and they innocent bystanders.
Another month at least? He had lost track of the days. For now at least the sky was merely gloomy. To that Kushiel could relate.
His mane had been singed off, like some burned snake weaving its way down his neck. For days he had sported a blazing crest of fire from his ears to the nape of his neck. But the bloody things had kept him awake, the little tufts of flame he had knitted together to make something beautiful. No one could sleep through their glorious burning. So, Kushiel had passed out this morning, nearly collapsed from exhaustion. When he woke up his flame had gone, leaving the smoking wreckage of his mane where there had once been fire. The rest of him would not burn, but he must keep the flame away from his tail.
Kush had not been born with the capacity for shame, or at least that’s what he had been told. It was hard to be embarrassed when you literally burned with the intensity and heat of fire. His appearance did not bother him, but the sense of loss was harder to bear. With his flames extinguished he could feel the tree calling him. The bloody Chamber Tree, in all its glory. The nearest fire wanted him, needed him, and he wanted it. He wanted to roll in it, lay in it, soak up the fire until it ran from his eyes…
With a start he shook the junkie look from his eye and moved away from the Chamber’s burning tree. He didn’t need any more flame right now. He needed something else. Food perhaps? Water, most definitely. Sleep, by the angels yes. Yet it was the flame he wanted. With some effort he swallowed his desire. He didn’t do it often, but he could deny himself.
The steely, dapple gray of his coat matched the sky, and the mist that always haunted the chamber. Kushiel breathed in the wet air. Once autumn had surrendered body and soul to winter, he would be in a right foul mood. The rain drops that hit him would sputter and hiss, as if he were the demon and they innocent bystanders.
Another month at least? He had lost track of the days. For now at least the sky was merely gloomy. To that Kushiel could relate.
Kushiel
some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall