i'll hold with those who favor fire [any]

[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 was no prince, at least not in the literal sense. He’d not been born with the proverbial silver spoon hanging from his mouth nor a dainty golden crown perched upon his head. There had been no perks or treats or lavish life. No dotting mother or adoring father. No, he was a son of the dark God. A dark God pulled from the stars in a moment of ill-thought prayers. True, he may not have been born a prince, but he was born so much more. He was born with an insatiable hunger for power in all things. From the moment he learned he could control fire he had set his sights higher than a crown. A crown is only useful in the kingdom that provides it; he wanted the entire world. He wanted to see fear in others eyes when he told them his name, to see them shiver and quake and beg for his mercy. So very un-prince like. Mostly, he wanted things to burn. The buckskins approach does not go unnoticed, though Flamevein barely glances up from the fire he’s created along the border paths. It crackles and jumps, reflecting in his eyes. The flickering markings across his back match time with the live flames, and he is no longer a mundane black. The queer nebula blaze on his face marks him a son of the dark God, first and foremost. Blue eyes stand against a black canvass, staring easily through tangled masses of black forelock. But the markings on his back, they tell the true tale. Even without him obviously throwing his talent about, they give a warning- “Don’t fuck with me.” Whether anyone heeded that warning, well, that would be their own downfall. The young stallion speaks, an air of entitlement clinging to his words. The pyro does not answer immediately, nor does he feel he has to. This kingdom is as much his as it is anyones. But he considers, and regards the buckskin with a tilt of his head. “Flamevein.” he said simply, turning away from the stallion and back to his creation. It seemed to be running out of fuel, so with a toss of his head he brought the fire back to life, allowing it to raise higher until the very bottom leaves of the trees fluttered dramatically in the spirals of heat. “Nothing brings me here. I’ve been here, I live here. I’ve just been…sight seeing, as it were. And doing a little redecorating.” he said, smiling a smile that failed to go past his lips. So he waited on the other, the fire at his back crackling merrily as he, its master, pushed it ever higher. flamevein fire bending son of carnage and alcippe