THE POINT OF ENTRY . "meltdown"

[j a c k .]

the heat is deafening, it roars along his pelt in a similar way a petulant kit might wail at it's mother. it itches along his fur and there is little ease to it. he has made his home here, surrounded by nothing but sand and even worse heat, at least the jungle is a reprieve, but only in comparison. there is heat and humidity and in the mornings the kodkod finds little peace before the sun, there has been some thoughts on seriously turning nocturnal, though little effort- there would be little to do, as it seems most of the group is only out during the day. it would be rude to ignore the entire group just for a little bit of comfort. it's with the same sense of ache in his bones that the air around him turns colder that his own breath mists out in vapor of the east's chilly winds. and within a breath and another the chill is just as quickly gone.

no, it is summer. this does not make him weaker per say, but it means more work to even keep at a cooler temperature, even around such water he finds such a flare of power... distasteful. it takes a great deal to make him breath that composure, and even still more to even get a hint of that same cold to unleash itself into a torrential fury. but the kodkod feels a touch of his siblings mirth, a twinge of longing in the distant cat- so far away from his family, so little to do, there was at least one thing he could change about it.

so it was in a suitable clearing that jack found a pond, only a few inches deep, and it came as easy as breathing- where once there was only a simple puddle of water, a pond and little joy, now there was a king upon his throne of ice. jack lay perched upon a staggering amount of ice and watching from his position as it slowly melted. content and drowsed from the use of such a simple task. the ice was maybe a few feet off the ground, with no feasible way to get up without clawing up there yourself. hell, to half the pittians he had met this would barely come to shoulder height, but it made the feline feel content, and the chill along his side as he rolled to his flank was perfect.

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

it felt temperatures but it did not really feel them, they were like a distant echo - much like any feeling - acknowledge, analysed and placed away to be deemed unimportant unless it directly affected a scenario before them.

So when it came upon the cat lying atop the melting structure, it did not categorise the temperature difference as anything worthy of note - no help nor hindrance and hardly affected anything it might seeks to do, though the eyeless gaze could be called a strange echo of amusement at coming across the scene

Though those strange jaws did part to hover open mouthed over the ice - and then so too did the ones hiding where a throat might be, before several things that could be generously called tongues if one were to stretch the meaning leered out and seemed to test at the melting ice

Things could be learned from sampling things after all, but mostly it tested the novelty of cool water droplets in desert summer

A strange rumbling gurgling that might be called a hum of thought before it pulled away it’s looming frame and somehow contorted all those long and monstrous limbs to ‘sit’ comfortably if idly to watch both ice feline and his melting throne

Every now and then a droplet falling onto that strange melted shadow-corpse-flesh hide and running rivulets through the raised and deformed valleys in the skin

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TAGS - ??? [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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[j a c k .]

there was something to categorize, a walking death. an ill omen and reproduction of war: silentgrave was that. jack had heard, seen through the grapevine, of this place - of the history of this place. steeped in war and only just now reforming, a place that was once war-driven and the people in it thus akin. to know that silent was drawn in, a moth towards the beacon of death this place used to be was fascinating. jack knew power, he wielded it in his bones and felt it stirring through follicles of hair that arch along his neck and down his spine, he knew power intimately, it came with the dominion such as his, death was a repercussion, it was the cost. jack knew the cost of war, of power logically, but he didn't know it, he was still young, still so naive, even if he played it off with faux widower and a composure that would later break the kodkod, it held firm in front of such a monstrosity, and it would hold firm still.

still, the fae was too lazy to even try and disway the other from doing as they please, the feeling of teeth grating against it as he licked along the afterimage of jack's power. he would taste nothing but ice- it was on;y that- ice. ice that was cold and melting as soon as it were erected, and while jack enjoyed the cool feel of it, he didn't like being wet. humidity just made the heat worse.

"if you find a big enough lake, i to will make a throne suited for one such as thee," the offer was one of goodwill, and an offer, while earnest, was never something that jack had done. he created flurries for his siblings and ice ramps, but the ice thrones were always his to make, to sit upon and watch from above. silent grave didn't seem the kind to enjoy flurries, or the snow, but in such a rush of heat, surely a seat to cool off would be a reprieve?

"mayhaps later, i'll admit i've been out of practice as of late" it wasn't, but the lie feel from the tom as quick as the ice melted here, he didn't feel the need to show an open weakness such as the latticework of his own frigid powers, an elderitch thing of death and war would do no better no worse knowing such things.

for the moment, the tom was content to lay, bask in the blazing sear of ice along his side, and let out a low purr, eyes lowering as the other's rumble almost lulled him fully.

[Luciferr]

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This is not your grave,
but you are welcome in it

the low rumbling stuttered slightly in an almost cough of amusement, the things grotesque shape shuddering with the aborted sound

”appreciated” seemed to be its only word on the matter, for the cold didn’t bother it nor did the heat,

It knew both in far greater extremes to ever be bothered by its current valiant attempts to sweat him out of his gruesome skin - to say that it could sweat in any such known terms

Still the creature shifted, great weight seemingly collapsing in a contained manner to lie comfortably with one side of that absurd bone-mouthed rib-half touching the cold structure as it’s frontal limbs all far too long splayed outwards with a snap and hung like doll limbs cut from the string

Similarity that massive cranium rested across them and in the sudden silence free of his noise save the low thrum, the tendrils across his shoulders and upper back waved idly in the still air.

It was bored with a lack of challenge - a shame given what had caught its attention here

It could still hear the bloodthirst in the land beneath his feet,

It made its teeth ache in sympathy

It’s eyeless gaze fell on jack again, considering

”what brings you to haunt here?”

A strange phrase to essentially ask what had brought the other to make a home here, but the abomination was curious for lack of anything else - and if it could not satisfy the hunger of its,,,’soul’ then it would satisfy the hunger of its mind at least

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TAGS - REF [9FT MYTH] - PITT - ART IS MINE

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