legends are slippery little things. for the glory that coats them
hides the pain, suffering
The control sizzled in his palms, and for one glorious moment, he recognized the power, the prowess, in his hands, savored, relished the sensations of fire crackling in his dominion, in his supremacy. It would have been triumphant, something to behold, if he wasn’t immediately smothered with lungs in his throat, in his lungs, like toxins, like poison, chest quaking with the effort of expelling it all through his mouth. He rumbled and growled, listened to the way the house seemed to scream, because there were other things here, worse off than the fire.
Monsters? he threaded the notion through the piercing flames, drawing them before him while his attuned connection segmented out to the others. His eyes stung and closed as he backed away, slowly, closing his lids for a moment and just feeling the flames follow him, at his command, at his demands. There were others calling and yelling, Remi’s insinuations of it is only a building; and it might’ve been true, but that didn’t make this any better.
But he could do this. He could help.
Then Amalia was there, screaming his name, and between coughing and rapid blinking, eyes watering with the effort, tugging on his arm, striving to make him leave. Keep the others safe.
What about here – can’t he here, can’t he, can’t he?
He maneuvered an inquiry towards Remi, towards all the others capable of hearing him; he cannot talk, only hack, only wheeze, only breathe in the fumes again and again. Let me know when everyone is out. A pause, a clenching of his jaw. I can bring it all down. The Sword backed into the Shield for a few moments, waiting for the finality, as the inferno continued to heed his requests.
Monsters? he threaded the notion through the piercing flames, drawing them before him while his attuned connection segmented out to the others. His eyes stung and closed as he backed away, slowly, closing his lids for a moment and just feeling the flames follow him, at his command, at his demands. There were others calling and yelling, Remi’s insinuations of it is only a building; and it might’ve been true, but that didn’t make this any better.
But he could do this. He could help.
Then Amalia was there, screaming his name, and between coughing and rapid blinking, eyes watering with the effort, tugging on his arm, striving to make him leave. Keep the others safe.
What about here – can’t he here, can’t he, can’t he?
He maneuvered an inquiry towards Remi, towards all the others capable of hearing him; he cannot talk, only hack, only wheeze, only breathe in the fumes again and again. Let me know when everyone is out. A pause, a clenching of his jaw. I can bring it all down. The Sword backed into the Shield for a few moments, waiting for the finality, as the inferno continued to heed his requests.
and death that spun them
DEIMOS
