08-14-2015, 10:15 AM
some are lost in the fire
some are built from it
He has returned from the borderlands, from the secret places far away. He had been gone not by choice, but by necessity: it wouldn't do to go burning down his home as he learned how to control his strange new gift. Although by now the gift is not new, and at least to him, not strange. It is a tiger tamed, a capacity completely under his command.
He is walking through the pine forests, enjoying the cool fingers of the pine trees, when he feels it. He is acutely aware of heat-related goings on in the Chamber, it's a nice little side effect of his particular capability. And when a fireling comes to the border, he feels it immediately. There's nothing quite like another who plays with heat and fire in unnatural ways; it's like running across a hint of shiny gold tucked into a rugged, dark landscape. It's completely different to his heightened senses, and as compelling as raw gold.
He opts to walk there from his place in the forest rather than using his now-mastered power of heat-empowered flight, and because of that choice he arrives shortly after Straia, slightly late to the conversation. Outwardly there is no evidence to indicate the power he holds. Unlike the boy of fire, he does not cause flames to dance on his back, nor keep the air around him particularly hotter or cooler than it would be normally. Nor does he bear too many signs that might indicate the unusual circumstances that led to his power. He is still dark-black, devoid of markings save for a strange red tribal tattoo around his left foreleg and the strange mix of dark blue and dark green hair that is his mane and tail. Oh yes, look deep enough and the signs of strangeness are legion. But unless you're looking for them, you might overlook them entirely.
He offers a small smile to his mother, and a nod to the two he hasn't met. He arrives in time to catch the name of the one, who smells like newness and strangeness, but not the other, smaller one. "Fire is useful." he echoes his mother with a note of amusement in his voice. "I can't imagine that the trees would burn again. At least, not in my lifetime." he offers, his voice light and joking. He knows his mother will know exactly what he means: the trees will not burn because he will not let the trees burn. His powers over heat allow him to destroy fire at its most fundamental level, just as they allow him to create it at the same. No, so long as he is here (which will be his entire life) the Chamber will never burn again.
"Welcome to the Chamber." he offers to the older one, the one who doesn't already reek of the land, his voice rich and handsome. His bearing is military, as though he is constantly holding himself at attention, but it is not uncomfortable, stiff, or formal. "I'm Erebor."
He is walking through the pine forests, enjoying the cool fingers of the pine trees, when he feels it. He is acutely aware of heat-related goings on in the Chamber, it's a nice little side effect of his particular capability. And when a fireling comes to the border, he feels it immediately. There's nothing quite like another who plays with heat and fire in unnatural ways; it's like running across a hint of shiny gold tucked into a rugged, dark landscape. It's completely different to his heightened senses, and as compelling as raw gold.
He opts to walk there from his place in the forest rather than using his now-mastered power of heat-empowered flight, and because of that choice he arrives shortly after Straia, slightly late to the conversation. Outwardly there is no evidence to indicate the power he holds. Unlike the boy of fire, he does not cause flames to dance on his back, nor keep the air around him particularly hotter or cooler than it would be normally. Nor does he bear too many signs that might indicate the unusual circumstances that led to his power. He is still dark-black, devoid of markings save for a strange red tribal tattoo around his left foreleg and the strange mix of dark blue and dark green hair that is his mane and tail. Oh yes, look deep enough and the signs of strangeness are legion. But unless you're looking for them, you might overlook them entirely.
He offers a small smile to his mother, and a nod to the two he hasn't met. He arrives in time to catch the name of the one, who smells like newness and strangeness, but not the other, smaller one. "Fire is useful." he echoes his mother with a note of amusement in his voice. "I can't imagine that the trees would burn again. At least, not in my lifetime." he offers, his voice light and joking. He knows his mother will know exactly what he means: the trees will not burn because he will not let the trees burn. His powers over heat allow him to destroy fire at its most fundamental level, just as they allow him to create it at the same. No, so long as he is here (which will be his entire life) the Chamber will never burn again.
"Welcome to the Chamber." he offers to the older one, the one who doesn't already reek of the land, his voice rich and handsome. His bearing is military, as though he is constantly holding himself at attention, but it is not uncomfortable, stiff, or formal. "I'm Erebor."
erebor
heat manipulating lord of the chamber
warship x straia
