Fimbulvetr

Radames

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Andbeth

Couple OTS


Event Call me a Party Animal

#1

Scorpio



And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had





Scorpio felt the heat of the flames on his flesh, the acrid tang of smoke in his throat- snorting heavily to rid his sinuses of stinging ash, he pushed forth with determination, eyes watering at the sheer temperature of the pyre, gripping the free end of a burning log in clenched fangs. Once sure that the wood was secure in his jaws, the flaming side pointed away from his mane lest it catch, he pulled it away from the massive bonfire with a grunt of satisfaction. he turned, his steps urgent and yet unhurried as he held aloft his blazing burden and shepherded it to his little spot about twenty yards away. There, after much deliberation, he had created a small and symmetrical mound of kindling and a few carefully selected logs with which he would build his fire. While not quite certain what this festival was celebrating, he had felt a rare twinge of amusement in his gut upon seeing the many groups all chattering around the frozen lake, aglow with their own flames or those that flickered from the gargantuan pile in the center. While not a man given to mingling amongst others, some primal urge within him could not resist the novelty of it all. This had lent itself to him constructing his miniature celebratory grounds not too far from the main locale. Though he had at first sent dirty looks to those souls daring enough to approach him, his still-bruised and healing wounds sapped his ire until he was forced into a state of near resignation. The imposing draft hadn't the spirit to be overtly hateful today. A miracle, in itself.

Thus afflicted with a reluctantly festive mood and a tired niggling of contentment, the demon clamped the log tighter in his teeth, arriving at his bundle of loose wood and kindling without flourish. Leaning down, he had to manuever his head in an awkward way to allow for the log to be placed properly, where its fire would ignite its fellows. The angle and the pull of his muscles on the freshly scabbed wounds of his neck caused a twinge, one he protested with a moody growl. It irked him to be physically compromised, a fact that was clear in the way fury sparked in his crimson eyes every time his battered ribs caused him to recoil mid-motion. Strength came in health, in hiding that which hurt and projecting only what was hale and dangerous. And yet, he feared perhaps he was not so dangerous at this moment in time. Imposing, maybe, with his ebony coat and deadly sharp horns, the silver piercings in his nose, ears, eyebrows. Malice, though, would have to wait for another day.

the log being finally centered, he straightened and stepped back, staring intently at his fire as it flickered sluggishly to life. Impatient, he gathered a mouthful of dry needles from the pines around them and let them fall as accurately as he could onto the flames, causing the warm blaze to spread to the rest of the pile. He watched the blaze with the intensity one might expect of a hawk with its eye on a mouse- once satisfied with its strength, he allowed himself a moment's reprieve. relaxing his weight evenly on his towering legs, he allowed the growing flames to warm his skin, up to his chest. He would have liked to feel the heat like a living thing all around him, engulfing as a pheonix his body, a fever to chase the infection of weakness from his veins and leave him gasping, words of defiance on the back of his tongue with the bitter taste of iron. He would have liked to bury himself in the embers of the massive bonfire at the center of the festivities, to throw himself upon it an wither away to dust. Alas... this petite cradle of flame was his only succor. Eyes dancing with primitive admiration at the crackling red-orange that clawed at the black night sky, he let his thoughts wash over him, pensive and aching for things long past. He glanced up in annoyance upon hearing some inane colt laughing not far away, ears twitching with the helpless frustration of a tiger in a cage. once, he might have raged, might have threatened, let his voice curl around them like serpents to lure them in for his wrath to consume... But this was not Elysium, where his family reigned strong in number and renown, nor was this his harem- where power was his alone, where he could lie amongst the warmth of other beings and garner comfort in the only way he knew how. He wondered, often, how it felt to love. How it felt to be whole and unbroken, without a wicked father to warp your mind and soul, without a coward mother to throw him upon the mercy of the world.

Yet as the pondering of possibility struck him, he curled his lip, shaking his sharply adorned head in negation. There was no strength in wanting what you could not have. No strength in the pitiful outpourings of emotion that afflicted those beneath him. The urge left as quickly as it came... and still, he could not help but feel as though it had taken something with it. Irked, he cast away the niggling doubt, standing straighter as he watched sparks drift away into the night. What was done was done. Changing what was etched so deeply within was a fool's venture- one with which he would had no patience. He snorted the chill air from his nose, chasing memory away in favor of the quiet restlessness that gripped the festival like a grasping hand. A celebration, perhaps... But what was there to celebrate?

OOC | Open to all!


Tag: @[Scorpio]