03-23-2016, 11:37 PM
when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away;
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
The ice and wind were brutal this morning, stirring a frenzy of icy flurries and whipping, whistling gusts that tangled themselves amidst drying, brittle branches - tearing away at weak, fragile foliage with its force. He finds himself caught in the midst of it as he remains still - a massive, stark beacon of black against the otherwise dark, dreary flatland. His muscles shift and roll beneath his scarred pelt as he stirs from his rest as the pale light of morning bathes the land in bleak rays of sunshine. It is a short lived sight as the brilliant sun is swiftly hidden away by volatile, weaving waves of clouds that rapidly cross the sky. A thread from Mother Nature herself; it would not be long until the wintry weather fully immersed itself into the kingdom of ice, blanketing in soft, powdery snow.
It is not long before he grows restless of standing still. He has grown uneasy about staying in one single, solitary spot, though he could not properly assess why aside from the obvious. He has many more burdens to carry on his shoulders, as well as the many lives that now rely on his decisions and everyday motions. It weights heavily on him, and yet he is strong of body and of mind. He can handle the pressure of it, but he causes his nerves to fray, even slightly. He remains constantly vigilant and aware, no longer able to draw himself away into the recesses of his mind with so many soft whispers and urgent matters tugging at his every fiber.
He approaches the massive wall of ice, his expression stoic and unmoved, though he admires the way the light of dawn casts a breathtaking shadow on its opaque surface, reflecting a sheen of sunrise that casts brilliant color across the expanse of it. He savors morning most of all, for it signifies the light of a new morning. He cannot deny the allure of a new day, of a new beginning - and this is true for so many facets of his life in that moment. He casts a glance towards the quiet, sleepy flatland, which is still empty and void of movement as so many enjoy the warmth of oncoming day.
Change was coming.
Pausing then, he can hear the soft, hushed mumble of voices from behind the blockade, and he stills instantly. His muscles tense beneath his skin again as he draws himself closer to hear the hushed sounds - but he finds himself thoroughly warmed to the core, and he draws away as if burned, his brow furrowed in a slight scowl as he observes the ice standing between them. A trickling of melting water dribbles down the length of the wall, but it is of no threat - its magic is strong enough to endure heat, but his mind runs rampantly now.
Who carries such warmth with them?
At last, he emerges, his hefty form stepping through the single aisle passage that leads the outside to the inside, and his deep crimson eyes settle on two peculiar features. One made entirely of magma - a shifting, moving entity of heat and fire - and one dyed a deep blood bay, not unlike his own searing eyes. He catches the humor within the voice of the other, and though still wary, he eases slightly. Diplomats, no less.
The King of Ice stared deeply into the fiery eyes of the Magma King, fully intrigued and interest piqued as the corner of his lips rose in a faint smirk. "Good morning, boys - my name is Offspring; the King of these lands." It was still foreign on his tongue; but he would adjust. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"
It is not long before he grows restless of standing still. He has grown uneasy about staying in one single, solitary spot, though he could not properly assess why aside from the obvious. He has many more burdens to carry on his shoulders, as well as the many lives that now rely on his decisions and everyday motions. It weights heavily on him, and yet he is strong of body and of mind. He can handle the pressure of it, but he causes his nerves to fray, even slightly. He remains constantly vigilant and aware, no longer able to draw himself away into the recesses of his mind with so many soft whispers and urgent matters tugging at his every fiber.
He approaches the massive wall of ice, his expression stoic and unmoved, though he admires the way the light of dawn casts a breathtaking shadow on its opaque surface, reflecting a sheen of sunrise that casts brilliant color across the expanse of it. He savors morning most of all, for it signifies the light of a new morning. He cannot deny the allure of a new day, of a new beginning - and this is true for so many facets of his life in that moment. He casts a glance towards the quiet, sleepy flatland, which is still empty and void of movement as so many enjoy the warmth of oncoming day.
Change was coming.
Pausing then, he can hear the soft, hushed mumble of voices from behind the blockade, and he stills instantly. His muscles tense beneath his skin again as he draws himself closer to hear the hushed sounds - but he finds himself thoroughly warmed to the core, and he draws away as if burned, his brow furrowed in a slight scowl as he observes the ice standing between them. A trickling of melting water dribbles down the length of the wall, but it is of no threat - its magic is strong enough to endure heat, but his mind runs rampantly now.
Who carries such warmth with them?
At last, he emerges, his hefty form stepping through the single aisle passage that leads the outside to the inside, and his deep crimson eyes settle on two peculiar features. One made entirely of magma - a shifting, moving entity of heat and fire - and one dyed a deep blood bay, not unlike his own searing eyes. He catches the humor within the voice of the other, and though still wary, he eases slightly. Diplomats, no less.
The King of Ice stared deeply into the fiery eyes of the Magma King, fully intrigued and interest piqued as the corner of his lips rose in a faint smirk. "Good morning, boys - my name is Offspring; the King of these lands." It was still foreign on his tongue; but he would adjust. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"
the ice king of the tundra
OFFSPRING
@[Brynmor]