// I've been trying to fix my pride //
Iskra does indeed catch the word choice Sunjata uses, and pauses everything to glance pointedly at the Flood, surprise drawing everything in his face to a subtle skyward lean. "Mel is your niece?" he asks for confirmation, though the slow drawl of a chuckle is breaking free with disbelief at the irony of fate. "I've known her since we were young. Used to play together all the time at Torchline. Caused hell for both our families, and the town," he laughed with a boyish ease at the old thoughts of them giving chase amid sun, sand, and sea.
Sunjata has offered Iskra a lot in the short time he's known him, likely more than the Flood realizes. The weight of their woodland talk surely did not register as anything meaningful for the Archon, but for Iskra, it had helped rouse something that had long appeared dead inside him—hope, and a strength to try and do something other than regret. Yet in this moment, there's perhaps no greater gift than that brief shower Sunjata produces, the blessed rainfall a cool respite among this heat that Goose and Iskra both are unaccustomed to even marginally.
"You are exceptionally handy to have around," Iskra laughs, pausing to hold up a palm to the drizzle produced by the Flood. With certainty now for the task at hand, Iskra carves the ore from the rock, thankful to Sunjata's assistance with plucking it up and placing it into his bag. The work is similar to his usual, but pulls on some different muscles that begin to ache, and the hard bite of the stone rattles against him differently from the wood.
Pulling back to assess if they have enough, Iskra wipes his 'brow against a sleeve with a sigh. About to ask Sunjata something, Iskra's voice dies beneath the low growl that rumbles free of Goose. The dog had remained closeby, watchful, but otherwise quiet with the nerves the dragon left him. Now however, he's lifted from the ground with a slow curl forward, bristling against the threat that steps around the slopes as two voidforged fyrhunds approach. They do not take much heed of Goose's warnings and after a lift of their own lips, they charge forward with all the devious intensity of the void's destructive nature.
Iskra swears under his breath and sinks into a low, prepared stance with the pickaxe. Drawing from nearby flame that edges along the lava pools, he coats the end of the pickaxe with the fire, though it feels like it might have little impact on the hounds, at least it adds an extra something to the meager tool at his disposal. "Here they come," Iskra grunts as he braces and swings at the approaching head of one that snaps for Goose, the other unwisely targeting Sunjata.
Uses his fire manipulation, drawing from the lava pools, to add it to his pickaxe swing at the void fyrhound
Fire Manipulation (Abandoned/Hybrid): Can manipulate flames. Must be within a 5ft radius, control is weak and unstable and requires concentration.
Type: Dark | Rank: Basic
Sunjata has offered Iskra a lot in the short time he's known him, likely more than the Flood realizes. The weight of their woodland talk surely did not register as anything meaningful for the Archon, but for Iskra, it had helped rouse something that had long appeared dead inside him—hope, and a strength to try and do something other than regret. Yet in this moment, there's perhaps no greater gift than that brief shower Sunjata produces, the blessed rainfall a cool respite among this heat that Goose and Iskra both are unaccustomed to even marginally.
"You are exceptionally handy to have around," Iskra laughs, pausing to hold up a palm to the drizzle produced by the Flood. With certainty now for the task at hand, Iskra carves the ore from the rock, thankful to Sunjata's assistance with plucking it up and placing it into his bag. The work is similar to his usual, but pulls on some different muscles that begin to ache, and the hard bite of the stone rattles against him differently from the wood.
Pulling back to assess if they have enough, Iskra wipes his 'brow against a sleeve with a sigh. About to ask Sunjata something, Iskra's voice dies beneath the low growl that rumbles free of Goose. The dog had remained closeby, watchful, but otherwise quiet with the nerves the dragon left him. Now however, he's lifted from the ground with a slow curl forward, bristling against the threat that steps around the slopes as two voidforged fyrhunds approach. They do not take much heed of Goose's warnings and after a lift of their own lips, they charge forward with all the devious intensity of the void's destructive nature.
Iskra swears under his breath and sinks into a low, prepared stance with the pickaxe. Drawing from nearby flame that edges along the lava pools, he coats the end of the pickaxe with the fire, though it feels like it might have little impact on the hounds, at least it adds an extra something to the meager tool at his disposal. "Here they come," Iskra grunts as he braces and swings at the approaching head of one that snaps for Goose, the other unwisely targeting Sunjata.
Uses his fire manipulation, drawing from the lava pools, to add it to his pickaxe swing at the void fyrhound
Fire Manipulation (Abandoned/Hybrid): Can manipulate flames. Must be within a 5ft radius, control is weak and unstable and requires concentration.
Type: Dark | Rank: Basic
Iskra
// But that shit's broken //
