07-03-2016, 11:47 AM
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It's not just familiarity that Pyro gazes on the Tundra with - it's longing. He was not born in this land, no - that was a time where mares were forbidden. Or, at least, highly discouraged. He was born in the meadow or the forest or some other insignificant place, with a mother who barely knew his father - except in story. In legend. Pyro was born after he died but the man imprinted on him deeply. It was too soon to say if that imprint was a good one or a bad one.
His longings looks are interrupted by the king, who offers him a welcome. A home. Pyro knows of the initiation from his last visit here and his lack of scars sell him out as someone who never tried the challenge previously. He wondered, his eyes flickering in the direction of the cave for only a brief moment, if his father ever took the challenge? Surely he would have been denied.
Surely.
"If I may ask," he says, hesitant, but needing to know. "The initiation...do any ever fail?" His youth might peg him as scared of failure, but in reality his need to know superseded any fear. He needed to know if it was possible to fail, and what that would mean for his past and future alike.
His longings looks are interrupted by the king, who offers him a welcome. A home. Pyro knows of the initiation from his last visit here and his lack of scars sell him out as someone who never tried the challenge previously. He wondered, his eyes flickering in the direction of the cave for only a brief moment, if his father ever took the challenge? Surely he would have been denied.
Surely.
"If I may ask," he says, hesitant, but needing to know. "The initiation...do any ever fail?" His youth might peg him as scared of failure, but in reality his need to know superseded any fear. He needed to know if it was possible to fail, and what that would mean for his past and future alike.
pyroclast.
she was on fire last night / and i was breathing gasoline