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wishmadeinfire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2013-09-07 12:30 pm
wishmadeinfire) wrote in paradisa2013-09-07 12:30 pm
Entry tags:
Don't Be Fooled By Your Emptiness [ action ]
Never had a morning seemed so bleak to Ashura.
Dawn was not pink and gold, it was a new sort of color for bruising. Everything in him ached, hair to his toes, body and soul. His eyes felt raw from the tears he had shed alone, his body settled with the heaviness like the day after a burial. And he had been to many of those too, over his years. Rising was a challenge, dressing himself even more so, feeling leaden and jerky, every action a question.
He partook of no breakfast, barely acknowledged the existence of Agni as he left the suite that was now his alone. He dared not glance at the plaque beside it - no matter what it said, it would ache and burn, and he was not sure he could take more wounds. One more prick, he thought, and he would simply fade, a soldier who lost to much blood.
Walking made him feel numb and he accepted that, basked in it. But in the numbness he could feel the roiling emotions he had kept at bay enough to get a handful of hours of sleep. They churned and hissed, and it had occurred to him here he had more freedom to release them than he ever had back in his own world (well, that was not entirely true, only that release cost people - the enemy - their lives in droves). Here he was no king. He was simply Ashura, a man, and in that thought his plan had blossomed.
Eventually, his feet stepped off grass and into sand, his robes dragging. The water hissed in his ears, a siren call, but not strong enough, not here, not for this. Another passage to death called his name, and it would wait patiently, he knew. He stopped several feet from the water, gazing at it, and inside he began to release the holds he had on that churning feeling, the emotions to myriad to put to words.
So he burned them.
Fire roared around him, a circle of heat that screamed with the pain and ache he couldn't properly voice. The circle bounded higher and higher, forming a tornado of swirling heat that groaned and howled as it at the air and his magic, flushing his skin. The pale yellow of morning was no more for him, just a single, swirling mass of red, gold, and at his feet white and blue. Above, the tornado shifted, grew higher, taking the form of a bird with its beak spread and screaming in denial and pain.
This continued for many, many minutes, but even Ashura's power and control had limited. The bird leaned forward over the water, falling in a death throw, hissing as it dissolved. With the tornado of flame gone, it revealed Ashura, skin flushed, the edges of his robes crisp, kneeling in a circle of molten glass, his whole body shaking from the expenditure, almost as if he would start seizing. And yet he didn't seem to care. He simply knelt in the circle he had formed about himself, shaking uncontrollably...
[ ooc: This takes place early in the morning, so catch him at the beach or if you want to, you can catch Ashura later returning to the Castle that's fine too. He'll still be shaking and look pale and his clothing crisped at the edges. ]
Dawn was not pink and gold, it was a new sort of color for bruising. Everything in him ached, hair to his toes, body and soul. His eyes felt raw from the tears he had shed alone, his body settled with the heaviness like the day after a burial. And he had been to many of those too, over his years. Rising was a challenge, dressing himself even more so, feeling leaden and jerky, every action a question.
He partook of no breakfast, barely acknowledged the existence of Agni as he left the suite that was now his alone. He dared not glance at the plaque beside it - no matter what it said, it would ache and burn, and he was not sure he could take more wounds. One more prick, he thought, and he would simply fade, a soldier who lost to much blood.
Walking made him feel numb and he accepted that, basked in it. But in the numbness he could feel the roiling emotions he had kept at bay enough to get a handful of hours of sleep. They churned and hissed, and it had occurred to him here he had more freedom to release them than he ever had back in his own world (well, that was not entirely true, only that release cost people - the enemy - their lives in droves). Here he was no king. He was simply Ashura, a man, and in that thought his plan had blossomed.
Eventually, his feet stepped off grass and into sand, his robes dragging. The water hissed in his ears, a siren call, but not strong enough, not here, not for this. Another passage to death called his name, and it would wait patiently, he knew. He stopped several feet from the water, gazing at it, and inside he began to release the holds he had on that churning feeling, the emotions to myriad to put to words.
So he burned them.
Fire roared around him, a circle of heat that screamed with the pain and ache he couldn't properly voice. The circle bounded higher and higher, forming a tornado of swirling heat that groaned and howled as it at the air and his magic, flushing his skin. The pale yellow of morning was no more for him, just a single, swirling mass of red, gold, and at his feet white and blue. Above, the tornado shifted, grew higher, taking the form of a bird with its beak spread and screaming in denial and pain.
This continued for many, many minutes, but even Ashura's power and control had limited. The bird leaned forward over the water, falling in a death throw, hissing as it dissolved. With the tornado of flame gone, it revealed Ashura, skin flushed, the edges of his robes crisp, kneeling in a circle of molten glass, his whole body shaking from the expenditure, almost as if he would start seizing. And yet he didn't seem to care. He simply knelt in the circle he had formed about himself, shaking uncontrollably...
[ ooc: This takes place early in the morning, so catch him at the beach or if you want to, you can catch Ashura later returning to the Castle that's fine too. He'll still be shaking and look pale and his clothing crisped at the edges. ]
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