Jun 02 2015, 09:39 PM
There were two things that existed in life. Fire and Oxygen. The twister roared bellow the platforms, its screams dominating the room. The air that belonged to the thing of wind was air that was asking to be tamed, to be used. The vents fed that air, and they were hot as flames, just waiting to feed a fuel that they had never known before.
The fire sat, nestled in a nook just inside one of the winding ledges. While the rest of the world was hot, this small, cracked object sat and grew to the size of a large dog, growing hotter and fiercer than the winds that whistled by. Indeed, this flame wanted, even before it became known to the world, as something with the power and strength of the true winds-- of the twister bellow. The fires could hear the roar, could feel the strength in the gentle rattle of the earth. Yes. That oxygen. That was what the flame wanted.
... It took a while for the fire to grow to the point that it could move.
For some reason, the fire found that unlike what it imagined itself to be like-- free, hungry, spreading wildly through grasses and air alike-- it was actually quite grounded and solid. This was immediately frustrating, and upon the realization, the fire struggled to move.
The fire did not come into the world with a roar like the Twister of Monoceros. It did not come in with a sizzle or a hiss or any natural fire noise. Instead, it birthed with a sharp, loud crack as the tip of the fire broke forth. The beast of flame's horn broke the crystal shell that had caged its heat and fury, the crack still ringing in sensitive ears. The fire snorted, struggling free of the orange-red cage, and with a few more sharp cracks, the lumpy grey animal plopped on to the floor and almost over the edge of the cliffs.
It seemed the being didn't mind almost plummeting to its death. And why would it? For the beast of flame saw the source of its lust and greed-- bellow lay the twister, roaring with rage, demanding to become hers.
post roll;;
The whirlwind bellow answered her simply. The branching fire on the horned beast's face crackled-- yes, that was the noise of fire!-- and she felt power grow in her veins. The wind would become hers as the heat spread to the feet tucked under her. Alarmingly, they grew too hot to handle. Stumbling, the grey baby managed to retreat from the edge just in time to promptly catch fire.
The twister laughed in her ears, the heat vents coming to life around her and feeding her fierce flames. They crawled up her legs, burning, starving to consume the young rhino. She had been born Fire, and so Fire she had became. Her ears caught next, her tail followed, soon the fire scored her entire body.
The beast screamed in response. The noise was drowned by the dominating noise of wind in the room, the awful cackling of the world around her. She had always been fire, yet now she became fire. She would know nothing else. Nothing, at least, until something that was not fire nor wind, yet somehow similar to both came along.
The fire sat, nestled in a nook just inside one of the winding ledges. While the rest of the world was hot, this small, cracked object sat and grew to the size of a large dog, growing hotter and fiercer than the winds that whistled by. Indeed, this flame wanted, even before it became known to the world, as something with the power and strength of the true winds-- of the twister bellow. The fires could hear the roar, could feel the strength in the gentle rattle of the earth. Yes. That oxygen. That was what the flame wanted.
... It took a while for the fire to grow to the point that it could move.
For some reason, the fire found that unlike what it imagined itself to be like-- free, hungry, spreading wildly through grasses and air alike-- it was actually quite grounded and solid. This was immediately frustrating, and upon the realization, the fire struggled to move.
The fire did not come into the world with a roar like the Twister of Monoceros. It did not come in with a sizzle or a hiss or any natural fire noise. Instead, it birthed with a sharp, loud crack as the tip of the fire broke forth. The beast of flame's horn broke the crystal shell that had caged its heat and fury, the crack still ringing in sensitive ears. The fire snorted, struggling free of the orange-red cage, and with a few more sharp cracks, the lumpy grey animal plopped on to the floor and almost over the edge of the cliffs.
It seemed the being didn't mind almost plummeting to its death. And why would it? For the beast of flame saw the source of its lust and greed-- bellow lay the twister, roaring with rage, demanding to become hers.
post roll;;
The whirlwind bellow answered her simply. The branching fire on the horned beast's face crackled-- yes, that was the noise of fire!-- and she felt power grow in her veins. The wind would become hers as the heat spread to the feet tucked under her. Alarmingly, they grew too hot to handle. Stumbling, the grey baby managed to retreat from the edge just in time to promptly catch fire.
The twister laughed in her ears, the heat vents coming to life around her and feeding her fierce flames. They crawled up her legs, burning, starving to consume the young rhino. She had been born Fire, and so Fire she had became. Her ears caught next, her tail followed, soon the fire scored her entire body.
The beast screamed in response. The noise was drowned by the dominating noise of wind in the room, the awful cackling of the world around her. She had always been fire, yet now she became fire. She would know nothing else. Nothing, at least, until something that was not fire nor wind, yet somehow similar to both came along.
tag ;; fang