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Post by misttheelf on Nov 23, 2020 14:16:34 GMT -6
Flames Bring Change A God RP Caron "Now the Fire and Wind guide me to Freedom."
Post 1 | WC 341 It was a dark alleyway, down to a hidden alcove beneath a bridge that could not be seen unless directly beside it. It was at early evening, with the sun painting the sky in glorious colors, and a small breeze coursing through the streets, teasing cloaks and tassels worn by many, that Caron was headed there, a phoenix perched on their back, as they had no meetings or jobs for the moment, and the alcove would give them a moment of privacy, a thing they've always preferred when offering prayers to the gods, this being the main reason why they avoided the sanctums, or a small shrine set up by other smugglers or slaves in other side alleyways.
Caron sighed as they settled down in an empty corner of their hidden resting spot. They dropped their cloak down beside them, their phoenix, Chiya, hopping off of their back and quickly getting to work in organizing the folds into a cozy spot for her to nestle into for the time they'd be there.
They then closed their eyes for a brief moment, before pulling out a match from their bag and a small candle, lighting it and setting it on a small shelf, followed by one of Chiya's shed feathers. Caron hummed a bit, bowing their head to the impromptu altar, their eyes closed as they spoke softly, in reverence.
"As always, I do not have much to offer, but still I now my head in prayer to the two of you, Ignacio and Alya… That Shiya remains safe, and that one day she and I may be reunited one day, outside of these city walls so that the both of us may be free, and so that she may find happiness…" Caron paused, before taking a breath. "And may I remain safe, so that my own work that I've found here in the underground of this city be continued. And so I offer up these simple prayers to you in the stars. May the wind fed flames continue to guide me."
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Post by ThatDenver on Nov 28, 2020 14:51:56 GMT -6
IGNACIO
The alleyway is quiet, the small alcove desolate. Only the breath of Caron and their phoenix, the soft words of their prayer, fill the air.
Around the corner, just beyond view, the city is full of life and disorder. Merchants shout, raising their voices in an effort to drown out the others, creating a cacophony of noise. Carts creak, wheels turns, someone walks through a puddle.
The smells are overbearing; a city this size always smells, even though the residents hardly notice it anymore. The dirt of the day, the smells of wet fur and expensive cheese and spilled wine all mingling together. Through it, the ever pervasive, soft smell of incense is recognizable – the favored offering of Ignacio, burning throughout a thousand homes and hundreds of sticks lit in each of His Sanctums.
Ever present, like a sweet shadow.
The city is hideous.
The city is beautiful.
Sunrays touch the tops of the rooves. Somewhere, a pigeon nests in a hole in the roof tiles.
Sunrays worm their way down to the cobbled streets. Their warmth finds all – slave, noble, citizen. All are alike under the sun’s loving embrace.
A single sunray touches Caron’s makeshift altar.
The flame of the candle burns brighter, hotter.
Impossibly hot and bright. It almost hurts the eyes.
Then, the flame turns blue.
Suddenly, there is silence. An unreal silence, the kind that should be impossible in a city this size. The difference is striking – even though the alcove felt quiet before, not it truly stands as silent as a grave.
The candle burns bright, drawing shadows across the far wall.
And from the shadow comes a living thing, yet not.
Alive, and yet more.
Ignacio, cloaked in flame and shadow.
His presence fills the small alcove; the great cloven hooves make no sound as they touch upon the hard ground.
The air feels warm, and the room is full of dancing lights.
The temperature rises. Sweat clings to your coat.
Few call upon me and Sister mine in the same breath.
Do you not think me enough to guide your path?
Is it not I who weaved my blessing, my blazing electricity, into your soul?
Is it not I who has answered your call, who has heeded the silent anguish of your soul?
Is it not I who nurture the courage and passion needed to fuel your endeavor?
She is not here.
She has not answered.
But I have, child.
And so I ask, what would you have of the Flame?
Why has your soul sought My star?
WC: 427
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Post by misttheelf on Dec 9, 2020 20:17:02 GMT -6
Caron "Now the Fire and Wind guide me to Freedom."
Post 2 | WC 330 Caron paused as they fell silent, noticing a… shift. They opened their eyes, focusing on the candle flame in front of them as it shifted in the ray of sunlight that had somehow found its way to the altar.
A sign that they had been heard. They blinked, glancing away as the flame became too bright for them to look at, before glancing back as it turned blue.
Their ears swivel as the sounds of the city disappear. Caron's breath catches in their throat as they turn, seeing the shadows dance in their peripheral vision, and they watched as Ignacio appeared before them, inspiring awe from his presence. The dancing lights drew Caron's gaze for a moment, as they made little notice of the heat, and sweat clinging to their coat.
Their gaze snapped back to Ignacio as he spoke.
Questioning why they prayed to both Alya and himself.
Asked what Caron sought.
For a moment, words failed Caron. - How do you answer, when your god is posing questions to you, standing in front of you?
They were in awe.
As for why they prayed to both gods, that they found the answer came to mind easily - Alya had blessed Shiya, and it was to her that Shiya prayed.
Caron did not voice these thoughts, for they knew that truly, Ignacio knew their reasons already.
Asked what they wanted, so directly… the only answer that came to mind…
"...Strength. Of will, and of mind. I… seek the ability to be able to protect those I care about once I am capable of being reunited with them."
They spoke, carefully, reverently. Voicing the answer, made it feel… right.
That was what Caron desired. To find where Shiya had gone, and to reunite with her. And to prevent a possibility of them being separated once more.
They wished, and sought, for the ability to keep what they cared about, and to help others find and protect what they cared for as well.
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Post by ThatDenver on Jan 14, 2021 12:24:29 GMT -6
IGNACIO
Ignacio stands silent, expectant. The dry heat in the alcove seems all-encompassing, still drowning out the sounds of the world outside.
Strength. A familiar request indeed. Many sought it, from him especially.
He was the flame and the flash, after all.
The burn and the shadow.
But sometimes, raw strength was not what mortals truly needed, even as their voices claimed so. Indeed, the sting of flame and heat of pain were weapons many desired, and yet so few found use for them.
With eyes like blue fire, Ignacio regards Caron. His eyes sear through skin, into bone, and then the soul.
Yes, he knew what would fit them.
You ask for strength, and I am inclined to oblige.
For you, who has seen beyond the illusions of grandeur, the gilded cages and the darkest of depths, I will grant my power over Illusions.
It takes a keen eye to see through the lies.
A keener mind still to control them.
This is the strength you crave; more subtle than a blade, yet no less deadly.
Ignacio’s voice booms, terribly loud in the small space. Still it sounds only for Caron, and when the god falls silent, his eyes burn deeper; indigo and purple and lavender, stars and dying suns.
A heat erupts in Caron’s chest, more than pain. A personal anguish, soul-deep, sears the blessing into their very soul.
Then, the pain grows, licking out of Caron’s ribcage like hungry flames. It envelopes them totally; a terrible, beautiful heat.
It is as if they are burning, and yet not.
Behold.
I remake you in my own image.
I crown you in my tines.
I sear my scales onto your very being.
Never be a slave again.
Know only freedom, and my love.
With those words, the heat yet intensifies. Antlers, heavy and foreign, grow from a head previously unburdened.
Scales crack forth from the body.
Even Caron’s eyes change; a momentary blur in their vision as the pupils slit.
Finally, the heat subsides. Ignacio stands before them, smiling.
Proud.
Witness.
A pool of collected rainwater at their feet becomes as clear as glass, reflecting countless colors – but most importantly, Caron’s own visage.
There, in the reflection, they can see themselves clear – not for the common horse they were, but for the kirin they now are. From their canines to their elongated tail, they were completely changed.
WC: 405
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Post by misttheelf on Jan 14, 2021 17:35:43 GMT -6
Caron "Now the Fire and Wind guide me to Freedom."
Post 3 | WC 460 Caron paused in the moment that Ignacio regarded them, their breath catching in their throat as the gods eyes stayed on them.
And then Ignacio spoke once more.
Illusions. Illusions to pair with the electricity already resting beneath Caron's skin - a useful tool, and one Caron was grateful for, as Ignacio's voice rang in their ears, compared to the silence, and then the silence started to settle in once more. Caron lifted their head to look at Ignacio, to voice their gratitude for the gift, before noticing the look in the gods eyes.
When the heat appears in their chest, Caron could not help the slight gasp that escaped their throat. It was intense, and… undescribable to the black horse. They stumbled a bit as the feeling of pain grew, to envelope them.
They were confused, and rather startled, at the sensation of feeling like they were burning, yet knowing, and seeing that they were not.
Ignacio spoke once more.
At first, Caron was confused, before realizing, as the heat intensified further. Their head bowed slightly as the weight of the new antlers appeared. They shifted as their new scales cracked forward, a strange sensation and feeling. Their sight blurred, causing them to shake their head as they blinked, swishing their tail for a moment, noting how it too felt different.
Throughout it all, the heat remained present, though more of a shield protecting them from what likely could have been a painful process.
And then it faded. Caron looked up, seeing Ignacio smiling at them. The expression was one so genuine, and full of pride that Caron did not know what to say.
And so Ignacio said a single word, and Caron's attention was drawn to their feet, where the puddle became a mirror.
And they were stunned. They could still recognize themself - but their remained a moment of disbelief as they looked themselves over. Scales covered the bridge of their face, their neck, back, and a portion of their chest and legs, covering where once they had carried a burned mark signifying their status.
Their pupils, no longer round, but slitted. Sharp teeth barely present, but there none the less.
Their tail, once more, appeared almost the same as it had before, though Caron could feel the difference in how it moved.
And finally, the antlers. Three tines each, forming a crown around their head with the elegant curves.
They were without words for a moment, taking in the simple fact that Ignacio had remade them, into one of the flame.
They were no longer a marked horse, who would be recognized as a slave…
They were a kirin. And so they lifted their head once more to Ignacio, "...Thank you, Ignacio. This… is truly a great gift…"
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Post by ThatDenver on Jan 17, 2021 10:51:42 GMT -6
IGNACIO
You are of me, and I of you.
Your new body is but visible proof of the covenant of our souls.
For I have always loved you.
Ignacio’s voice is gentler now, a soft comforting rumble of a hearth rather than the roar of a wildfire. The god leans closer, and gently touches his muzzle to Caron’s forehead.
The touch is warm, comforting; like a warm light embracing Caron’s whole being.
A moment that is all at once holy and yet so terribly mundane; a simple touch, and yet so profound.
A single moment in time.
As Ignacio retreats, another strange sensation comes over Caron. Not so much pain as a pressure, emanating from the spot Ignacio touched.
Ignacio slowly pulls away, a hilt of a blade held between his lips.
The blade, still tinted red as if freshly forged, seems to materialize out of nowhere.
Out of Caron’s very own body.
Out of the iron in their veins.
Finally, Ignacio stands further away, and holds before him a dagger. A magnificent weapon, discreet and of immaculate craftmanship. Two gleaming sapphires, almost unnaturally blue and perfect, glimmer in the relative darkness of the alcove. The blade settles, the heat of its birth passing; the metal an almost blue grey.
Ignacio regards the blade, his eyes twinkling.
Then, he holds it out towards Caron.
Hold him, who was born of your very soul.
For he too is of you, and you of him.
Hold him, and know his name, so that he may wake.
For there may be blades grander, and weapons of grander craft, but this is the dagger of a protector.
Blessed by my power, and crafted by my own hoof.
WC: 284
Post #3
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Post by misttheelf on Jan 18, 2021 14:36:34 GMT -6
Caron "Now the Fire and Wind guide me to Freedom."
Post 4 | WC 192 Caron hummed as Ignacio’s voice softened, looking up to the god with a small smile of gratitude.
Ignacio’s gesture broke them though, as he touched their forehead. Simple, and kind gestures like that were… So rare to them, that they did not know how to react, as they simply felt the warmth, and comfort. That singular moment was burned into Caron’s mind, as Ignacio pulled away, and they felt the pressure at the spot where Ignacio had touched. Confusion brought them back, especially as they saw the blade that Ignacio now held, from here it has materialized from seemingly no-where.
They watched as Ignacio stepped away, and held the dagger out to them after it had cooled, the faint red glow fading to a cool blue. Their eyes lingered across the details of the dagger, lingering on the sapphires that were on it.
When Ignacio spoke next, as he held the dagger out to Caron.
They carefully took the dagger from him, regarding it carefully. The dagger, born of his soul. Crafted by a god.
A power to protect.
“...Amund.” Caron spoke, the name springing to mind as they held the dagger. |
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Post by ThatDenver on Feb 6, 2021 8:53:41 GMT -6
IGNACIO
Ignacio watches the relic awaken – a special moment each time, both now and in the ages long past. The bond between souls magnificent to witness.
He will keep you safe.
Ignacio smiles again, and looks at the makeshift altar. The tangible connection to the world, to Hireath, is harder to maintain now than in the ages of old. His mind, ancient and yet young, has to focus to not soar across the starts; to stay rooted in the here and the now.
The god’s eyes return to Caron.
There are dark days ahead.
Difficult days.
May the strength I have woven into your veins help you prevail.
Ignacio looks thoughtful, and one of his back legs breaks from reality, now stardust more than anything resembling flesh and bone. The heat begins to subside; the god’s entire being pulses, like chained nebulae about to reveal their true form.
Remember Caron: Fire deals not in destiny.
Whatever may come, only you weave the strings of your own future.
Ignacio lifts his head towards the sun shining beyond the sheltered alcove. For a moment, it burns purple; a single blink, unnoticed by most.
The god sighs.
And then, he is gone.
Caron is alone once more.
WC: 210
Post #4
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