04-03-2016, 09:05 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
Of course as the days began to grow longer so did his duties. The time of rest and aimless patrols was over and in their wake were endless meetings and decisions to be made. Killdare had not taken the crown lightly but it was almost thrust upon him nonetheless. It was a burden but a burden he was proud to carry for his Kingdom, something he would do ten times over if it were ever asked of him. Even with the high price they had paid for it, as selfish as that may sound. It is what it is thought isn’t it? Power is paid for in blood and there was no escape or loophole to be had.
It’s peculiar the pair, setting forth from their respective homes, polar opposites in appearance. Though both were respectfully built each held an element that was the others opposite, fire and ice like that age old poem everyone seems to love. Even if propositioned with the question himself Killdare would choose fire, he would most certainly choose fire. He was fire, his home was fire, everything in his life seemed to depend on the burning element that both gave and took life.
His quiet mood stems from the self-discipline he had so cruelly been taught as a young child, he did not wish to speak ill with or to the Ice King’s shadow of a diplomat, so instead he did not speak at all. He busied himself with idle chatter inwardly, thinking of how this particular meeting would go, who might show, but he was not truly worried about the Gates or her people. Once he had escorted the Princess to the Valley it was sure that in her place the Valley would send its own chosen one to the Gates, an eye for an eye in a sense but all for one singular purpose. Shifting the power, the alignment of the realms to bring forth change and strength where once it was barely held on to. He assumed that even now Eight was carefully seeing to the Heaven born girl, molding her into a definitive Queen and woman. Best of luck, he thought, knowing the trials of girl children himself.
Even now he thought on his own for a moment, a young painted girl, woman now, was it? Their lives seeming to blur by in a breath, now his own was at a standstill only thanks to the Chamber herself.
When Offspring stops Killdare follows suit, his burning eyes delving into the vastness of the Gates’ meadows. An ever quiet Kingdom was it? Lush already even at the birth of spring, the land here was rich and fertile, nothing like his own home and this is why he simply stares forever into the sprawling grasses and clover. At the sound of the Tundra’s call his sooty ears pull back, listening and waiting for movement.
Nothing came, save for the rhythmic buzz of gnats and when he could stand the stillness no longer he gave his own greeting. Peeling the charcoal of his skin away to expose the inferno that bubbled beneath. A raging earth core, a living being all its own as it pooled and boiled into itself, he was only calling to one in particular with this wretched, blistering heat. A soundless chant to appeal to something darker than he.
It’s peculiar the pair, setting forth from their respective homes, polar opposites in appearance. Though both were respectfully built each held an element that was the others opposite, fire and ice like that age old poem everyone seems to love. Even if propositioned with the question himself Killdare would choose fire, he would most certainly choose fire. He was fire, his home was fire, everything in his life seemed to depend on the burning element that both gave and took life.
His quiet mood stems from the self-discipline he had so cruelly been taught as a young child, he did not wish to speak ill with or to the Ice King’s shadow of a diplomat, so instead he did not speak at all. He busied himself with idle chatter inwardly, thinking of how this particular meeting would go, who might show, but he was not truly worried about the Gates or her people. Once he had escorted the Princess to the Valley it was sure that in her place the Valley would send its own chosen one to the Gates, an eye for an eye in a sense but all for one singular purpose. Shifting the power, the alignment of the realms to bring forth change and strength where once it was barely held on to. He assumed that even now Eight was carefully seeing to the Heaven born girl, molding her into a definitive Queen and woman. Best of luck, he thought, knowing the trials of girl children himself.
Even now he thought on his own for a moment, a young painted girl, woman now, was it? Their lives seeming to blur by in a breath, now his own was at a standstill only thanks to the Chamber herself.
When Offspring stops Killdare follows suit, his burning eyes delving into the vastness of the Gates’ meadows. An ever quiet Kingdom was it? Lush already even at the birth of spring, the land here was rich and fertile, nothing like his own home and this is why he simply stares forever into the sprawling grasses and clover. At the sound of the Tundra’s call his sooty ears pull back, listening and waiting for movement.
Nothing came, save for the rhythmic buzz of gnats and when he could stand the stillness no longer he gave his own greeting. Peeling the charcoal of his skin away to expose the inferno that bubbled beneath. A raging earth core, a living being all its own as it pooled and boiled into itself, he was only calling to one in particular with this wretched, blistering heat. A soundless chant to appeal to something darker than he.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
is this okay mr tannor?