07-03-2016, 11:58 AM
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Change sits heavy on pyro's heart. He came to the Tundra, the land of his father, as an explorer and a learner. He wanted to know all he could about the formidable man and the kingdom he took without asking. He wanted to stand in his hoof prints, to look over the ice and snow he once held for himself. Pyro wanted it all, he wanted to roll it between his palms and smell it - up close and personal.
Most of all, he wanted to chose.
On one side of the coin was his choice to follow in his fathers footsteps and become like him. He knew of the man's personality, it brimmed beneath the surface of his own, threatening to catch fire and light them all like flash paper.
On the other hand he could reject the man and his harsh ways, suppress the desires to be cold and unreasonable and simply be himself. Was that not the great fight of man? To lend yourself to your desires, or to break free from them?
He is ever brewing as a volcano set to erupt - but erupt how? For greatness? Or for glory?
The meeting is a jumping off point for him, and he simply shows up, his mouth a flat line of noncomittance. Who's he to say this way is good, or wrong? He only knows that his father is rolling in his grave in tiny pieces.
Most of all, he wanted to chose.
On one side of the coin was his choice to follow in his fathers footsteps and become like him. He knew of the man's personality, it brimmed beneath the surface of his own, threatening to catch fire and light them all like flash paper.
On the other hand he could reject the man and his harsh ways, suppress the desires to be cold and unreasonable and simply be himself. Was that not the great fight of man? To lend yourself to your desires, or to break free from them?
He is ever brewing as a volcano set to erupt - but erupt how? For greatness? Or for glory?
The meeting is a jumping off point for him, and he simply shows up, his mouth a flat line of noncomittance. Who's he to say this way is good, or wrong? He only knows that his father is rolling in his grave in tiny pieces.
pyroclast.
she was on fire last night / and i was breathing gasoline