Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180629031953

Movement. Those he sought now at the door's premise. A desire from his surrogate, a pulse he agreed to cultivate. The trail of smoke unmistakable to anyone else, he starts following. His walk, eerily quiet, hidden from sight as his flame by the dark tha is cast upon this domain.

Soon, he is over the stairs, hands open, cracked like a stalker. He gazes onto the gemini, posted at the edge of the balcony. Where a smile might have occured beforehand, there is none to witness. Naught but an ancient visage, casting one of humanity's more primal emotion.

Hatred.

A joyous hatred manifest on his burning hand, the young man lifts two sundering fingers, short gap between them. With a pulse, two small flames appear before the twins, seemingly dying like a star. Only, within their presence, the faint fires growl and bloat in but a flash, exploding upon their exposed bodies with such force to spit them from the balcony. Their small frames, sent flying across Prad, who by them stared at them not. Surely with their eyes, they could note the ambient metallic arm opposed to the burning one, the same shade from the flames that has placed them in this predicamment.

He steadies his hand, halting the visit of further violence as he walked to the shattered balcony. His ears had picked up on the cries from Alburn. Rising his immolated hand, he violently opens his palm, letting loose a serpent swirling and trashing about the immediate surrounding. No, not a serpent, but an orchid stream of fire acting as a reptilian, lashing at the one called Gethin. A choice placed on his hands: to remove himself from the rifleman, or risk suffering the cursed immolation.