07-06-2017, 09:43 AM
you can have my isolation,
you can have the hate that it brings.
you can have the hate that it brings.
The warmth is stifling, and the air is thick with fallen ash – a haze is lingering heavily between the swaying vegetation and the bright, vivid sky, encapsulating all beneath it in its tepid clutch. He has grown used to it – perhaps, because of the stirring, flickering flame that is burning so brightly within him; the heat and fire are as much a part of him as his wild and powerful heart, churning within the thick of his chest. A thin sheen of perspiration causes the otherwise dreary and dull blackness of his skin to shine, while unshaken beads of sweat line the gentle slope of his spine. He is still – quiet, watchful, waiting.
The sun lay just beyond the horizon, but it is far from fallen, bathing the rich soil in its light, and reflecting over the ravenous but unbroken sea. He is nearest to the shoreline, cheek turned towards the shadow of the looming volcano in the distance (and he can almost feel it rumbling, almost) – with thick, luscious plumes of smoke rising from the top, darkening the atmosphere. He is content, with the updraft of the ocean breeze raking over the scalding heat of his skin – he is content, if only for a moment.
He is not alone, however, and with a careful sweep of his thick neck, he is peering out into the water – and emerging from the haze, a set of bright, burning red eyes, not unlike his own, meet his. The tension coils within his muscles, but appear as no more than a flinch of shifting bones. The fire is stoked, crackling and burning within him, and a low flame courses the length of his spine, wary – and though he cannot pry into his mind, he cannot probe his innermost thoughts, there is a roiling discontent stirring within the pit of his stomach.
He could be trouble.
Gryffen is still, watchful, but he does not see him lingering along the eastern border, and so he emerges from the shadow of the sea, observing him as the sun finally dips down beyond the horizon. Quietly, his rumbling voice rises above the crashing, churning waves of the sea, as his dark eyes settle upon him.
”You’ve found Tephra, and I am its overseer, Offspring,” he pauses, considering him, as his dark and heavy eyes bore into his own. ”what can I do for you?”
The sun lay just beyond the horizon, but it is far from fallen, bathing the rich soil in its light, and reflecting over the ravenous but unbroken sea. He is nearest to the shoreline, cheek turned towards the shadow of the looming volcano in the distance (and he can almost feel it rumbling, almost) – with thick, luscious plumes of smoke rising from the top, darkening the atmosphere. He is content, with the updraft of the ocean breeze raking over the scalding heat of his skin – he is content, if only for a moment.
He is not alone, however, and with a careful sweep of his thick neck, he is peering out into the water – and emerging from the haze, a set of bright, burning red eyes, not unlike his own, meet his. The tension coils within his muscles, but appear as no more than a flinch of shifting bones. The fire is stoked, crackling and burning within him, and a low flame courses the length of his spine, wary – and though he cannot pry into his mind, he cannot probe his innermost thoughts, there is a roiling discontent stirring within the pit of his stomach.
He could be trouble.
Gryffen is still, watchful, but he does not see him lingering along the eastern border, and so he emerges from the shadow of the sea, observing him as the sun finally dips down beyond the horizon. Quietly, his rumbling voice rises above the crashing, churning waves of the sea, as his dark eyes settle upon him.
”You’ve found Tephra, and I am its overseer, Offspring,” he pauses, considering him, as his dark and heavy eyes bore into his own. ”what can I do for you?”
you can have my absence of faith,
you can have my everything.
you can have my everything.
OFFSPRING
@[Gryffen]