03-26-2016, 09:54 AM
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.
Killdare. He was a sight to behold, to be certain, with thick plates of magma coating what would be his skin, shifting and bubbling magma oozing between each one. He paused to marvel at the sight of him, though his expression retained stoicism as he admired his unusual armored plating. He found it mildly ironic to have a creature that contains such searing heat at his core in a place of bitter ice and frostbite, and he supposed his companion may be slightly envious of his warmth. As he studies him, he feels his searing eyes boring into him as well, and he knows that he too is an usual sight.
With thick muscle, stocky build and immense height, he is an intimidating force. Riddled with many war-torn scars, tainted a faded pink across his coal-dyed pelt, he holds the appearance of a warrior, though there is so much more to him than appearances. His deep crimson gaze holds his for a long moment, even as he begins to speak. An alliance. It was the first of many negotiations he would make as the newly crowned King, and he anticipated negative push-back. He had been thinking deeply for some time about this very ideal, and what it could mean for the future of the ice kingdom.
"Moving forward is always the objective, Killdare - and you can call me Offspring. No need for formalities." His dark eyes draw away from him for a moment as he finds warmth radiating at his own side now; his dappled gray friend has sidled up to him and now lingers beside him. He can sense the tension taut in his muscles, which is wholly abnormal - Brynmor often patrols of border and usually intercepts strangers long before he himself does, or anyone else for that matter, and very rarely is he so tense in doing so. He studies him for a long moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he begins to speak.
His words are scathing, unprovoked and containing laces of poison in between each spoken syllable. He allows him to speak, but finds himself slightly unnerved by the aggressive undertone of his words. He is uncomfortable, this much is obvious, but perhaps it is the faint scent of smoke and soot that rises from their skin that stir these emotions within him. Offspring knows of his past - of what Brynmor will tell him, at least, and of his great disdain for the Chamber. Though he understands it, a new dawn is settling in, and old blood alliances (which had occurred in his own time - he could recall the alliance between Kotaro, Rodrik, and many others, though he cared little at the time - war is always inevitable with or without blood tainting the contract) were of little concern to him.
"Brynmor, I think it best we allow them the opportunity to speak. I doubt they seek a blood alliance, as in past generations. Stand down and let us hear them out." He murmurs softly and earnestly, urging the man to push his prejudices aside or dismiss himself altogether. He glances again to Nymphetamine, who is simply an accessory to Killdare's presence - he is solemn, yet a steady listener. He hoped quietly Brynmor would take a page from his book. "Tell me, Killdare, how do you see us moving forward? Who are you now allied with, after the war?"
With thick muscle, stocky build and immense height, he is an intimidating force. Riddled with many war-torn scars, tainted a faded pink across his coal-dyed pelt, he holds the appearance of a warrior, though there is so much more to him than appearances. His deep crimson gaze holds his for a long moment, even as he begins to speak. An alliance. It was the first of many negotiations he would make as the newly crowned King, and he anticipated negative push-back. He had been thinking deeply for some time about this very ideal, and what it could mean for the future of the ice kingdom.
"Moving forward is always the objective, Killdare - and you can call me Offspring. No need for formalities." His dark eyes draw away from him for a moment as he finds warmth radiating at his own side now; his dappled gray friend has sidled up to him and now lingers beside him. He can sense the tension taut in his muscles, which is wholly abnormal - Brynmor often patrols of border and usually intercepts strangers long before he himself does, or anyone else for that matter, and very rarely is he so tense in doing so. He studies him for a long moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he begins to speak.
His words are scathing, unprovoked and containing laces of poison in between each spoken syllable. He allows him to speak, but finds himself slightly unnerved by the aggressive undertone of his words. He is uncomfortable, this much is obvious, but perhaps it is the faint scent of smoke and soot that rises from their skin that stir these emotions within him. Offspring knows of his past - of what Brynmor will tell him, at least, and of his great disdain for the Chamber. Though he understands it, a new dawn is settling in, and old blood alliances (which had occurred in his own time - he could recall the alliance between Kotaro, Rodrik, and many others, though he cared little at the time - war is always inevitable with or without blood tainting the contract) were of little concern to him.
"Brynmor, I think it best we allow them the opportunity to speak. I doubt they seek a blood alliance, as in past generations. Stand down and let us hear them out." He murmurs softly and earnestly, urging the man to push his prejudices aside or dismiss himself altogether. He glances again to Nymphetamine, who is simply an accessory to Killdare's presence - he is solemn, yet a steady listener. He hoped quietly Brynmor would take a page from his book. "Tell me, Killdare, how do you see us moving forward? Who are you now allied with, after the war?"
the ice king of the tundra
OFFSPRING