05-22-2016, 11:17 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
Autumn is like a soothing balm to the heat of summer, coaxing the world slowly into the slumber which winter will bring. Taking everything from vibrant hues of crisp, leafy greens to those that set the world on fire in orange and crimson and sunshine. Everything changes with the season, well, most things do. He is summer everlasting against the drying grasses, the fire in the snow when all else had been snuffed out to make room for new. The trees of pine will stay evergreen as well, the needles emerald and prickling even in the heart of ice and snow. And though all is preparing to die and decay, some things are only beginning, some things get their start in the fall and then bloom fresh in the spring with the wildflowers.
Children, of course it is the children of which he speaks, the changing hue of leaves on oak and maple signaled the start of the mating season. His own lines ranged freely within the confines of the pine forest and come spring he would add to that. Another young life was made by his hands and he could not feel an ounce of remorse on it, even if they never thought it he had given himself wholly to them. What parts he could spare for them he willingly sacrificed, bending on knee to offer them as some sort of peace prize, mostly those blackened pieces of his heart. He would bat for them always, keep their counsel and their peace if he could. The protection he was able to give would always be theirs if they would allow it and silently he prayed that they would willingly accept.
Suppose in their own ways they had accepted that jagged little pill he had given them, one that he had never meant to cause harm with but somehow everything always ended up a muddled mess. Was that a curse, was he cursed?
Killdare had never been a superstitious fellow, that is before he had spent his life growing into adulthood in the far reaches of Beqanna, in the secluded realm of the Chamber. Eventually he had begun to accept things that he would never give cause or care to before, things he was told as a child were not real or did not exist. Possibilities were endless here, strange things crept over those both willing and resistant and he had a mind to never be caught in the crosshairs of some magic entity unawares or ill-prepared. Yes, acceptance was the first part of being prepared, an open mind and willingness to learn was another. Hadn’t he proved this when he had stood before the burning tree and accepted the flame it spilled over him as it would a crown?
It had been some time since he had crossed paths with Nymphetamine, too long perhaps but it was quite the vacation from his incessant prattle and “clever” nicknames. Alas, truth be told Nymph was one of Killdare’s few friends and the magma King really could not boast of having many. Most of them had gone, disappeared from this life or taken to the unknown reaches and mountains of Beqanna after the war. It was high time he kept the ones that remained and did something to keep the terms amicable.
Children, of course it is the children of which he speaks, the changing hue of leaves on oak and maple signaled the start of the mating season. His own lines ranged freely within the confines of the pine forest and come spring he would add to that. Another young life was made by his hands and he could not feel an ounce of remorse on it, even if they never thought it he had given himself wholly to them. What parts he could spare for them he willingly sacrificed, bending on knee to offer them as some sort of peace prize, mostly those blackened pieces of his heart. He would bat for them always, keep their counsel and their peace if he could. The protection he was able to give would always be theirs if they would allow it and silently he prayed that they would willingly accept.
Suppose in their own ways they had accepted that jagged little pill he had given them, one that he had never meant to cause harm with but somehow everything always ended up a muddled mess. Was that a curse, was he cursed?
Killdare had never been a superstitious fellow, that is before he had spent his life growing into adulthood in the far reaches of Beqanna, in the secluded realm of the Chamber. Eventually he had begun to accept things that he would never give cause or care to before, things he was told as a child were not real or did not exist. Possibilities were endless here, strange things crept over those both willing and resistant and he had a mind to never be caught in the crosshairs of some magic entity unawares or ill-prepared. Yes, acceptance was the first part of being prepared, an open mind and willingness to learn was another. Hadn’t he proved this when he had stood before the burning tree and accepted the flame it spilled over him as it would a crown?
It had been some time since he had crossed paths with Nymphetamine, too long perhaps but it was quite the vacation from his incessant prattle and “clever” nicknames. Alas, truth be told Nymph was one of Killdare’s few friends and the magma King really could not boast of having many. Most of them had gone, disappeared from this life or taken to the unknown reaches and mountains of Beqanna after the war. It was high time he kept the ones that remained and did something to keep the terms amicable.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
