Sep 02 2015, 08:23 PM
Ever since he'd been designated as a guardian of some of the smaller members of their family group by Dragon, Ghanyarah had it in his head that he had to be a protector, and that he must have been as powerful as the imprisoned king that the doe had talked about in her story. Obviously, the imprisoned king was him - and he had to admit, he liked the idea of being in such a position of power (sans being imprisoned). Being a guardian may just give him that authority - being the one in control, able to fight and defend and dictate the actions of those below him. Not to mention that Ghanyarah already wore a pretty high rank, it was easy to see how the komodo dragon could let it all get to his head. It wasn't as if he was going to overthrow Dragon - in fact, Ghanyarah had little idea of what being a 'king' really meant. All he knew was that he controlled the Claw faction of their group, and that made him powerful, like a king.
But he couldn't truly be powerful unless he mastered his magic, and could be strong enough to defeat anybody that threatened his groupmates. That was why the komodo dragon found himself here, in the tunnel that connected Cetus with the rest of the world. The tunnel covered in slick ice that made it difficult for him to move - terrain that he was not accustomed to, and yet... he felt at home in the cold. It held him back only because it slowed him down, but Ghanyarah was intent on overcoming this. He'd since discovered his affinity for the ice. He had to become one with it. He had to control it.
Lingering near the entrance of the tunnel, he glanced back into Cetus then huffed, a cloud of translucent mist curling up from his nostrils. Ghanyarah plunged into the tunnel, only stopping once he was deep enough in it that the cold began to permeate his thick hide. There, he hunkered down and closed his eyes, as if he was going to meditate - no, no such peace could reach the lizard. Instead, it was concentration. Reaching out to the cold that encased him. The wind that breathed around him. The frigid moisture that clung to him. He had to make it is.
Post-Roll Edit:
After a few minutes, he had managed to get a grip on the cool temperature. He could feel himself immersing himself in the cold, snaring a connection with it. It touched his skin and seeped into his body, but once he could control it, he pushed it away. He pushed the cold away until it lingered just at his skin, and there it gathered in glistening frost crystals. Instead of cooling his body, he wore it like armor - scales of ice that jutted out from his hide, protective and offensive all the same. Ghanyarah opened his eyes and raised himself off the ground by extending his legs, swinging his head to examine his sweet new garb.