"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
That was the only word to describe what had just happened. His flesh and blood abandoning him for some trivial pursuit of happiness. What irked him more was that he had no choice. She had no choice. By the laws of the land she was Trekoris' to do with as he pleased and it burned his insides to think of what that meant. This Brotherhood could be a machismo society and who knows what harm could befall onto his sister.
Having starred to where they had departed from until the sun had set, he debates what he should do here. Karat had begged him not to tell their father of her leave but how could he honor that request. A request that could put her in harms way. With a quick pivot of his metallic body, he sets out across the kingdom. Emerald tipped ears buried in matching tendrils of mane. His eyes see where he goes but all he truly seeing is the replayed image of Karat walking away with the golden pegasus. A snort expels harshly from his nares, creating a puff of white vapor. Darkness was quickly consuming the lands and he was no closer in figuring out what he should do.
The clip of iron on rock echoes through the lands. Possibly bringing attention to himself but typically his looks did that. The sun reflected off his form something fierce. Making his identity undeniable to any who may know of him. Having lived here for nearly half a year, he has met few. Occupying his time with training mostly and protecting his sister. After the run in with the dark clown he had sworn no one would harm her again. So he practiced and perfected the art of metal transformation every waking moment. It had been that daunting day that had turned him into the iron clad beast he was now.
For a moment he stops. Standing solid before a stream of lava, he loses himself in its orange glow. Emerald eyes stare intently into the hypnotic flow of molted rock. Commanding his powers to bring up a vein of iron from beneath the earths surface. His mind spins the unruly metal just above the heated earth. Watching it soften and become malleable. With a faster rotation it begin to straighten and in turn become long and thin. Never before has he used the heat of Tephra's volcano to fashion a weapon of iron. Though he doesn't need its help, it fascinates him still. Taking his mind off his worries for at least a while....
Phoebus finds himself by the volcano nearly all the time now.
He sleeps by it, he eats by it, he practices controlling his fire armor by it. He is nothing if not attached to its warmth and beauty, regardless of the destruction it may cause.
So it is where he finds himself again. Resting by the fiery inferno, eyes closed and content. That is, until the clanking of metal against the cool lava rock catches his attention.
He looks over to where the stranger stands; he’s seen him before, during the kingdom meeting. It was the former Ischian Prince, in all his metallic glory. Phoebus watches in awe as he forms a spear out of the lava he loves so much, excited that someone might like it as much as him. The boy looks lost, like he was in a daze. Phoebus walks over, careful not to startle him.
It is nearly nightfall, the in-between time where the day is almost done but night has not revealed itself. The sun has not yet touched the horizon, but Warrick comes here long before that. The bay stallion stands near the base of the towering volcano, his brilliant blue eyes staring thoughtlessly into a rivulet of molten lava as it slowly boils, beginning its long journey though Tephra. He found comfort here, watching magma bubble idly instead of staring into a running river of water. The lava was in no hurry – it was calm yet purposeful.
The idea soothes him.
The lava at night was magical. It brightens and revitalizes the darkened world, pulsing with life. As the sun moved across the sky, the lava begins to make a glow onto Warrick’s auburn coat, making him illuminate in the coming darkness. The warmth on his skin is comforting, though to many it might be too intense. He could feel the coolness of night at his back and he instinctively steps closer to the lava. He wanted to be away from the darkness, to bathe in the fiery glow of the magma beneath him and never emerge to a dark world again.
The sound of metal rouses the Overseer from his thoughts, the ocean blue of his eyes leaving the brilliant burning lava to quickly find the source - the Ischian boy, though technically a Tephran now. The winged stallion snorts softly as he watches the young stallion stand before the streams of lava, much like himself, and stare into its slow-moving depths as if the answers somehow would come from the heated magma. Warrick had already decided that he would join Kromium (remembering intently that Klaudius had asked to help train him, mold him), but as the Overseer begins to move through the golden grasses of the inland plains, he quickly notices another coming to join the metallic stallion.
A small hint of a smile flickers on his lips as Phoebus comes into his eyesight. There is pain behind the smile, however, as he remembers the boy’s father. Diable Rouge had been a close confidant to the Overseer, and the loss of his friend still stings in remembrance. Seeing Phoebus is bittersweet, but he is glad the boy is here when he could be in many other places.
“Gentlemen,” he greets them as he halts squarely before them. The orange glow from the lava paints the trio in liquid gold, shining and shimmering against their muscled skin. Warrick’s eyes quickly dart from Phoebus and then to Kromium, lingering lastly on the spinning and gloriously shining metal that the once-Ischian prince seems to control with ease. He does not greet them as children - they are far from that, with the horrors they have seen and the trials they have endured, despite their age. “What brings you to the lava tonight?”
Updrafts of ocean winds keep him airborne as he circles the islands for the thousandth time. The light of day has long faded into the cool of night and everything is still. Almost too still. Silver eyes scan the territory below in deliberation. Small huddles of equines scatter the landscape but they are not the forms of his Ischian family. With another thresh of his wings, he moves towards the northern most shoreline.
A deep inhale of the offered scents of the night give him no more clues as to where Krone and the twins have gathered. They were adolescents and to think he could contain them here much longer was foolish. He'd hope they'd continue their training and remain close. One day ruling a kingdom, perhaps Tephra, together as they(Krone and him) had always planned from them. Their disappearance now worries him, so he banks down the western shoreline and hunts for any sign of them...
The darkness hindered his sight some, but he finds a misplaced orange glow within the center of the island. It could be nothing more than a flow of lava but it remained unmoving, so he investigates further. More wing beats move him quickly through the night air and bring him just above the mysterious light. Upon further investigation, he finds it to be nothing more than the fire armored colt of Tephra and... Krom. Thinking upon the subject just slightly more, he concludes that his son must be practicing with the older colt and that Karat is with her mother...someplace.
So again he turns away towards the shoreline. It was the only place he could think the ex-queen to be since having left the tropical isle. Having tired with flight, he chooses to land upon the rocky shores and search by land. A scent trail would be stronger here and perhaps give him a lead. With wings tucked tightly to his sides he ventures on. Trying to unmask the mystery of everyone's whereabouts. The sulfur of the volcano hindered his tactic some but as he meandered along the shoreline, a foreign stench filled his nares. It smelt of death and decay, of salt water and...Sylva. Mingled lightly within it was a fate hint of Krone and this sparked dread to creep up within him. Could a Sylvan have snuck up onto the beaches and captured the former queen? He had been so attentive in his duties of guarding the shores...
With this speculation he is now concerned as to where... "Karat!" he gasps in realization that she could possibly be missing as well. Wings unfurl to begin his rise into the star speckled skies. With more haste this time he looks to find his son again along the stream of melted earth. Silver eyes settle on them easily -as it is hard to miss the glow of orange radiating off both the colt- and he is pleased to find Warrick has come to find them as well. A tuck of his wings, dips him back to the earth, worry plaguing his facial features.
He is quickly pacing towards the trio with words soon erupting from his lips, "Krom! Where is your sister?!" His ears are nearly flat against his poll as he hardly waits for a response before turning to the overseer, "Warrick, there is a Sylvan scent along the western shores. Faint but lingering, as well as Krone's. I've been searching all evening for her and that is all I've found. Karat and Kwartz seem to be gone as well. Have you heard anything lately? I'd almost suspect Ischia is behind these disappearances..."as all that are missing were from Ischia, he wants to add but keeps the thoughts to himself. Could his family really be a target of the islands out of spite? His initial assumption was the Brotherhood being behind the sudden missing family members but the undeniable scent of Sylva had washed upon the shores...
Klaudius
I was lightning, before the thunder
@[Warrick] @[Phoebus] figured Id add him here so we can cover all bases in one thread XD #DRAMALLAMA
05-11-2018, 08:51 PM (This post was last modified: 05-23-2018, 09:19 PM by Kromium.)
Krom doesn't hear hoof steps nearing, or even see the glow of light dancing about the dark lands. His thoughts are transed by the orange-ish liquid before him. It is only when he hears words, that he snaps from his hypnotic stare with surprise, "Oh... Ummm ya. I'm good...I guess," is all he can manage to say as his face turns to view the roan colt briefly and then returns to his workmanship. He didn't necessarily know this colt or if he lived here, but the unchanging familiar scents tell him that most likely this was a resident...
Politeness doesn't find him now. He should have greeted the stranger and offered his name, but he does neither. Thoughts occupied by the situation brewing in his mind, over power the need to chat. That is until another voice sounds. A much deeper tone and more direct. There is a quick and stiff rise to his head. A flick of his emerald ear, finding the newcomers location. With a slight turn of his head, he sees Warrick joining them by the flowing pool of heated rock. His address is formal(as always) and so Krom follows up with an explanation of some sort, "Just thinking I guess..." It wasn't much and explained even less. He wouldn't have it so easy in mere moments...
A familiar beating of wings now, causes him to turn about. Emerald eyes widening as he views his father barreling towards them. Soon, his name is called upon and then demanding words fill the night. Fuck. It's the only thought that comes to mind but luck for him, his fathers impatience surfaces and the lavender stallions attention is redirected towards Warrick. Phew.
His relaxation lasts only a short while as he listens to his fathers concerns. A quite gasp escapes him as he thinks of his mother, his sister, and now his brother. Immediately he knows his mistake, when his father turns to look at him in question. Had he gasped that noticeably? Shit! He thinks of sinking into the lava flow and allowing the heat to melt away his body. At least he wouldn't have to rat out his sister, but she could be in danger, so with a gulp of courage he speaks, "I... She..." With a pause he realizes he had said too much to back down now. Straightening himself slightly he continues, "A colt we met before leaving Ischia told me he had stolen her... Trekori I believe is his name." Shame befalls him as he can feel his fathers fury building, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do, so I let her go." He doesn't add that she had begged him not to tell their father. That she was going willingly. To find herself, she said. It's not like anyone had a choice in the matter anyhow. BQ laws.
