Iskra
I'm chasing starlight to find it's died away
A hum of agreement rises to the Sword's take on Ludo's first impressions on Iskra. If anything, a sobering reminder that for all the spooky rag's fun, it's not without it's abilities to be serious, and Ludo seriously likes to stay warm. "Yeah, couldn't talk without shouting for a few days." A stray hand ruffles his hair, recalling the particularly painful affair of trying to talk to Sah after his anger had been spent."Did you know that Ludo hates the cold? Seems a bit strange to have a shrine to it in Halo. Didn't think anything of it, but I'm tempted to put up a warning sign there for everyone else." Or at the very least, post up with some popcorn and watch some other fool, because why break vicious cycles when you could be entertained by them instead? Then again maybe everyone's already smarter than him about that.
He shrugs away the thought, attention drifting to the hobbling creation at his side as talk shifts from gods to flame. "No," Iskra admits with a lofty sigh, disappointment curling in his chest. "I've been practicing a lot more than I used to, and it reaches further now than last you saw, but I still need a source." It'd be nice to save pocket room for something other than matches, although they've become such a security blanket now he's not sure he'll remember his own power once the time comes, just fumbling in a panic at his empty pants. "It feels close though. A lot closer than the lightning." Elements aren't fond of being controlled, and the gods don't give out guidebooks.
As if in proof, he draws a matchstick to life from his hand, tossing the little bit of wood into his created porcupine fire pit. It catches on the fuel wedged in there, and the glimmering thread of metallic heat he can feel rise in response in his veins is a thread he can grab onto only when the embers pulse nearby. He tugs on it, and is able to direct it towards one of the fresh lanterns Erebos has placed.
