Lighting it up, going to burn to the ground
He steps out of the direct line of the leap as Mel steps up next. He curves around the side of the bonfire, unable to dim the grin that stretches out in eager lines at the sight of her embracing their latest dabble in community chaos. She turns it up for the crowd too, and he settles in with his arms crossed as he awaits the show. She doesn't disappoint, whizzing past his attempt with newfound flare, her fire ring earning a whoa from the crowd among other oohs and ahhs. The sentiments echo through on his features as they lift, impressed and surprised. He hadn't even realized she'd copied him again.
Chuckling under his breath at her wink and her cleverness, he applauds along with the rest, the sound dying out as a new voice boldly stakes a claim. "Go on then," Iskra encourages to the teen, clearly no father figure in his current state. "Let's see if you're a fire dancer." The fire swells then at his insistence, tendrils reaching out as if they mean to grab the boy's shirt and lug him in, but not quite managing before they crackle back into the usual. It makes the teen step back, the crowd gasping with it, a newfound wariness present. He glances over and Iskra nods, offering to count it down.
In a very dramatic count from 3 to go, Iskra sends off the boy. As the feet leave the ground, he yanks the fire lower, ensuring the child won't come to harm, and weaves the arcing flames higher around either side of him, the faint shape of twin hawks flying up visible to any who looked hard enough. The boy makes it through to the other side, and Iskra leads the cheers that rise up. "He is a firehawk!" Iskra brands him, and the lad's breathless with possibility as he runs back around. Now, a burly man strides forth, sneering faintly at the display so far. "Anyone can do that, it's easy!" he claims. Iskra's gaze slips towards Mel, holding her meaningfully and jerking his head faintly towards the bonfire. This guy is all hers.
Chuckling under his breath at her wink and her cleverness, he applauds along with the rest, the sound dying out as a new voice boldly stakes a claim. "Go on then," Iskra encourages to the teen, clearly no father figure in his current state. "Let's see if you're a fire dancer." The fire swells then at his insistence, tendrils reaching out as if they mean to grab the boy's shirt and lug him in, but not quite managing before they crackle back into the usual. It makes the teen step back, the crowd gasping with it, a newfound wariness present. He glances over and Iskra nods, offering to count it down.
In a very dramatic count from 3 to go, Iskra sends off the boy. As the feet leave the ground, he yanks the fire lower, ensuring the child won't come to harm, and weaves the arcing flames higher around either side of him, the faint shape of twin hawks flying up visible to any who looked hard enough. The boy makes it through to the other side, and Iskra leads the cheers that rise up. "He is a firehawk!" Iskra brands him, and the lad's breathless with possibility as he runs back around. Now, a burly man strides forth, sneering faintly at the display so far. "Anyone can do that, it's easy!" he claims. Iskra's gaze slips towards Mel, holding her meaningfully and jerking his head faintly towards the bonfire. This guy is all hers.
Iskra
