09-28-2015, 09:22 PM
He had felt the change coming.
It slipped over the horizon like the coming of a summer storm. The air thick and heavy, teaming to the brim with the impending electricity. It crackled and sizzled and too soon the clouds would break. The fire-veined stallion felt the electricity on his skin, smelled the chaos on the winds. It was an intoxicating scent, and he drank of it like a drunk slugging on a bottle of dime store wine. This, this was his element, his reason for being. He was not built for peace, but for war and chaos. He was, after all, a son of the Dark God.
Flamevein was no stranger to Eights magic, and he felt the crackle of it immediately. Perhaps it was the own traces of magic in his own veins, or something else entirely, but he knew immediately when the magician was wielding his powers. And so he went towards the commotion, thriving on it, feeding off of it. Their plans were coming into fruition. His own fire crawled gracefully up his legs and along his underbelly and caressing him all the way. The fire in the distance was something larger though and he knew this was the source of the magical disturbance. A grin splits his mouth, but it’s almost grotesque in its manner and certainly doesn’t reach past his mouth. His eyes are full of fire and fire alone. In the distance he can see the king, and he’s quite impressed at the way he allows Eights magic to ravage through his body. It takes a brave soul to let such old magic travel through ones veins, and Demian clearly is sparing nothing. Flamevein watches quietly as the fire builds from him, and all around them the borders erupt. Ah, yes… he thinks, his own flames leaping at the sight of new ones. This is his element.
Finally he pulls himself from the show at the border, heading in the direction the winged king had went. It doesn’t take him long, and he wastes no time coming to his side. He knows what will be said and knows what will be done. They can swear themselves and be marked by the Valley, or they can leave, or they can be scarred as traitors. Their choice, though it seemed as though only one was logical. The king turns to him, and Flamevein returns his oath with that same smile he’d worn at the border raising. “Of course, your majesty.” He blows softly from his nose. At once the air turns to fire, and the fire fashions its self into a hand. With a pointer finger extended, a “V” is drawn on the kings cheek, beneath his eye. Inhaling he draws the fire back into himself, extinguishing all but the flames that crawled up his legs. “I too swear myself to the Valley. I am the blood of her blood, and to her I give my life. I hope She and I can serve one another, until I’m no longer of service.” he said, all emotion gone from his face. Closing his eyes, he felt the fire spring onto his face. Gritting his teeth the “V” traced itself out- it was only through Eight’s magic that he could feel this bit of fire at all. Finally he was done, the flickering marking standing stark against his black and nebula face. He stood beside the king, his eyes glittering with fire and something else, something seldom seen there.
flamevein
i set fire to the rain
Ooc - Ok, so if you want to swear yourself and get your tattoo, feel free to use Flamevein however you’d like. He can touch you, make the hand of fire, or have it simply show up…use him how you’d like!