"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
When he heard that Sylva intended to steal him, a flicker of mischief made a home within his heart. He told Starsin and Malone the good news (though his wife certainly didn’t see it that way) and kissed them both goodbye. Ophanim would miss watching over them as they slept but he decided he would just have to make the best of this. So with the summer sun to his back and a smile across his face, he spread his glimmering gold and white wings and set off for the forests of Sylva.
Now, he tucks his wings as he spots a small clearing between the trees of the southern territory. It’s been ages since he last got to stretch like this, especially after healing from being mauled in Tephra, but he’s just glad to be active again. His descent is more careful than usual and he spreads his wings once more as he approaches the ground, easing into a relaxed trot to slow himself to a stop. The glowing golden eyes across the underside of his wings are hidden once more as he folds them against his sides. Still, the slow turning halo above his head and the lines across his neck and face seem brighter here in the shade beneath the trees.
Ophanim remains still as his bright blue eyes adjust to the light. Finally, he’s able to take a few steps forward as he surveys the region, briefly wondering if he should have waited up for Sochi. He didn’t know her very well at all so it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference either way. The angel boy shrugs it off and continues touring the territory curiously.
And then, a dark little thought comes weaseling its way into his mind.
He glances left, then right. Maybe they haven’t noticed that the best captive they’ll ever have is here yet. The corners of his pink and gold lips curl into a smile once more as he inhales deeply through his nose. Cress had woven his fire gland back together like a master of her craft and so he isn’t surprised when the stream of fire comes almost easier than before when he exhales. But he doesn’t push his luck with it just yet. Instead, he lets only a small flame chew through the fallen leaves and leave scorch marks across the ground. It dies as quickly as it came and he laughs at his own antics. By the time his year is up, there may be nothing left of Sylva but ash and remorse. What a perfect place to build his strength back up.
“Sinner! Come along now, before my boredom costs you your home!” he says as more laughter comes tumbling from him carelessly.
The growing tension between Sylva and Loess had left him nothing but in high spirits. While he might have been losing members of Sylva left and right, the quiet kingdom was still standing. Aziz might be the newest addition to Loess for now, but he would long be back once the challenge was successful.
Sinner had every hope within him that he would come out the winner of the challenge. He has waited too long to finally grasps what was rightfully his all along. The crown is and was his always from the beginning. He never intended to fully kneel when Loess had taken the crown for themselves. They were only keeping it warm for him all these years.
He expected Ophanim and Sochi anytime soon. Thinking he would silently accept their attempts to steal his own members away would not happen. Sinner had his own bone to pick with Loess too. So, when he successful steals Ophanim and Sochi, he is well pleased with the outcome. He especially pleased to have Ophanim within his own domain now.
There was just something special about the dragon-stallion. Perhaps a tension that was left over from the war in Tephra or to finally get back at the Loessian for stealing away his members. Either way, he would ensure Ophanim had is hands full here within Sylva.
“Such the troublemaker you have become,” a smirk crosses over his lips as he pulls away from the shadows of the trees that canopy over them in his hellhound form. His eyes glow with a mix of red and yellow as he looks over Ophanim for a moment. The smell of faint burning touches the tip of his nose. “Already practicing to burn down Sylva, huh?” Sinner laughs softly.
06-18-2019, 11:49 AM (This post was last modified: 06-18-2019, 11:49 AM by Ophanim.
Edit Reason: forgot to tag, oops
)
OPHANIM
Ophanim has stared death in the face and been pulled from its jaws. He knows the kind of monstrous strength required to snuff out the fickle flame of his life and it has made him more arrogant as a result. Sinner doesn’t have six tons of lean muscle or raging fire to pit against him and so he’s hardly a blip on the radar as far as threats go. He turns his head as the dog comes when he’s called. Good boy. A smile spreads across his gold and white face as he watches his four paws come loping across the forest floor.
“I was born a trouble maker, little hound,” he says with a laugh, the after taste of smoke spreading over his tongue. “I’ll burn down more than Sylva. Maybe your family too.”
And still he laughs, as though he’s told some harmless quip over dinner with a friend. The angel boy wonders if Castile will let him have the forest territory once they’ve ripped it from Sinner’s greedy hands. But then he would have to tear down all these trees and make it nice and open for all his sons and daughters to practice flying in. He tilts his head as he imagines the region as a smoldering pile of ash where Meraxes practices his own fire breathing. Perhaps Rupture and Bela could hunt the wildlife to extinction as they perfect their killing techniques.
These imaginings remind him how strong his young are and he smiles warmly at the thought before turning back to the hellhound. His bright blue eyes are too eager, too hungry for the destruction of another region.
“Summer has dried out your little home. It would catch even faster than Tephra and with a fraction of the Loessian army.”
Ophanim tips his chin upward and breathes another plume of fire onto a low hanging branch, watching as it catches along the rattling leaves and curls them to ash. Little ringlets of black soot drift over him but he is careful not to catch the higher branches. Can’t have the entire area burning down already when an entire year of this lies ahead of him.
“Do you think Castile will let me be Lord of Sylva once he’s done with you? You could still live here, of course, but my children may not be kind to you.”
His eyes remain trained on the withered branch as he remembers when he could breathe fire for hours at a time.
06-19-2019, 05:49 PM (This post was last modified: 06-19-2019, 11:45 PM by Sinner.)
there is but one rule hunt or be hunted
He did not fear the darkness or the monsters that lurked within them. There was nothing to fear when he was a monster made by monsters itself. With hellfire and smoke, they had sewn him together piece by piece, craving every angle of him—their most precious masterpiece they had called him.
A masterpiece they had created only for one thing—an omen to his father. But they had also ingrained within him to be an obedient servant. A chained and bound as a slave to the darkness. He had searched endlessly from Beqanna to empty lands to find a worthy master of darkness. There had never been one. Perhaps there was no one worthy he found to bound himself to, or maybe he was always meant to break away from his chains.
The hellhound was always meant for greater things. Living an immortal life as a servant was beyond the skills he was equipped with. He was always meant to be a master of his own—not the minion of the hellions that created him.
“I’d like to see you try and burn it all then,” he says with a flick of his tail as a smirk remains on his lips and Ophanim finds humor in his idle threats. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did try. After all, you seem rather fond of many malicious things.” Sinner carefully considers Ophanim for a moment. but his expression does not flicker.
Sinner doesn’t miss the way the dragon-horse’s eyes sparkle with hunger. It was the same hunger he felt when he wanted flesh and bone. The madness it drove within him was at sometimes unbearable. Sometimes he could not completely control his hunger—even now it has grown far wilder. Without hunting constantly, he could end up killing anyone.
Ophanim is rather found of giving threats to the hound. Perhaps trying to find something to trigger him and make him on edge, but Sinner is not easily given in by how many threats are spit out. “Loess will be nothing when I am done with it,” he says as Ophanim decides to play with his little special abilities. “One more outburst of your flames and I’ll make sure you’ll be the one burning instead.”
At the mention of Castile, he licks his teeth. The image of battle Castile losing comes to his mind easily. “I doubt you will have the chance to ever be anything,” he replies, his wolfish smirk grows wider across his dark canine head, revealing his sharp teeth. “At least I’ll make sure you are my prisoner forever.” He can already see it now—Ophanim chained up to one of these boulders within Sylva. “We will have so much fun!” He laughs softly.
