thick skin / elastic heart [any]

[Flamevein]

some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice from what I’ve tasted of desire, I’ll hold with those who favor fire - R. Frost He knows nothing of the familial bonds that tie others together. His father was a dark God, and his mother a helpless romantic searching for good in the darkest corners of the night. She’d found a God true enough, but he had offered her no semblance of salvation. He had appeared to her from the sky, or maybe from the earth itself, bringing with him the scent of burning things and dust from the stars. But he had given her nothing more than a carnal piece of himself and a child marked with space and capable of controlling the fires of hell. He is not born of this land; he is born of stars and prayers and some place far away. But he is entitled to this land, a prince of the blood here. This land was his fathers land how many times before? It was his father who had raised it from the ashes many times over, and burned it to the ground in the very next breath. So while he may not have been born in the forests here, he strode the land as if it were his own. Through the forests, over hills and into valleys: it was his to stride. Today he walked without much purpose, his feet carrying him from one grazing spot to the next. It would never occur to him to feel afraid here, or anywhere for that matter. Fire is his trump card, his ace in the hole, his be all to end all. It is well within his realm of powers to light things on fire with nothing more than a thought of an idea in his head. If that were to fail him, he was impervious to the fire he could create and thus amused himself by lighting his entire body on fire. So fear was not a problem for him. He is chewing idly, feeling exceptionally dull today, when movement ahead catches his eye (blindingly blue eyes, standing stark against a black coat and nebula-colored blaze.) It is a child, with a proud demeanor he can see from where he currently stood. He does not know the child, but that’s not surprising. Children weren’t his “thing”. Making children, sure…raising them? No. But he heads towards her anyways. After all, the day is boring in a way even he can’t liven up. He slows on approach, resisting the urge to burn something just to see the look on her face. “Hello.” he says simply, tilting his head in the way a cat might when watching a mouse. “I’m Flamevein.” Perhaps he should say more, but words are failing him right now. He watches her quietly, wondering who’s mistake she was. flamevein fire bending son of carnage and alcippe