" I'd Rather Die Young , "
Oxytocin only once got to feel the touch of magic, for a very limited time. As it turns out, the kingdoms of old had the powers to grant their rulers with magicks of their own, so that they could better rule their kingdoms. The once-king, having struck a match against Kindling that had soon grown into a raging fire, had chosen pyrokinesis as his ability. How he had enjoyed razing the kingdom to ashes and watching it grow from the ground up—it is the only thing that truly excited him, having fire at the tip of his tongue. Even his lover's touch had never brought him trembling to life.
Losing that gift had been one of the hardest things he'd ever endured; it was just as painful as losing the kingdom of his heart, and more heartbreaking than losing Kindling (for he had been losing her for a long time, so her death was hardly their finale). He had been stripped of his fire and his Valley, all in one day, by Eight the Usurper. That was the last day he had spent in his kingdom, though he had spent many months pacing the borders, staring longingly at the mountains that called to his very soul.
But he had never returned. Some things aren't meant to be recovered from, he'd learned.
He still pines for the Valley to this day, though it has been long since destroyed. He longs to be able to set another fire, and he desperately wants nothing more than to light a flame under the hide of a loved one. He has let go of his love for Kindling (was it ever truly love to begin with? Or just passion?) a long time ago, but still he yearns for the touch of a loved one, though he'd never admit it. If one were to ask him, he'd deny it profusely. He is alone, but he is not lonely; not in his head, at least.
Losing that gift had been one of the hardest things he'd ever endured; it was just as painful as losing the kingdom of his heart, and more heartbreaking than losing Kindling (for he had been losing her for a long time, so her death was hardly their finale). He had been stripped of his fire and his Valley, all in one day, by Eight the Usurper. That was the last day he had spent in his kingdom, though he had spent many months pacing the borders, staring longingly at the mountains that called to his very soul.
But he had never returned. Some things aren't meant to be recovered from, he'd learned.
He still pines for the Valley to this day, though it has been long since destroyed. He longs to be able to set another fire, and he desperately wants nothing more than to light a flame under the hide of a loved one. He has let go of his love for Kindling (was it ever truly love to begin with? Or just passion?) a long time ago, but still he yearns for the touch of a loved one, though he'd never admit it. If one were to ask him, he'd deny it profusely. He is alone, but he is not lonely; not in his head, at least.