RISING FROM THE ASHES // o, discovering power

JORMUNGAND

male — the Pitt — bio — pinterest board

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OC TEXT


IC TEXT | IC opinions only

Ever since returning from Tanglewood Jormungand had stayed silent, often was found deep in thought or pacing by the river. He felt something different, something happen in him when Elsweyr sunk her claws into his chest. Thinking about it the wound ached, still fresh skin jarred and smoking. He reached up a claw to gently pat at  the marking, the crocodile with a sinister grin that matched his own current one directed through the darkness in the clearing he was in. A frown, shaking of head and the male stood up. His mind was in conflict, the uncertainty clouding his gaze.
A brush of wind fluttered around him, he swatted at it. He was in no mood to play around with the weather, his thoughts grew jagged. He watched a cloud form next to him, a very small and faint one, turn deadly iced down to a point. Huh, nice. He turned his head, threw his thoughts towards a tree. The air exploded against it, the leaves flapped, his smile curved sharp. Beautiful. So he could play with air now could he? He huffed, optics shut, concentrated. Muscles bunched, mist drew from the sweat on his body and dissolved into the sand to rise up again and quickly encase him in a bodysuit-ish thing. The air tickled his nose briefly, but only for a moment.
Mist turned dark, dancing around his body, and he let it flicker, staring into the river. "What has happened?"

#psychosocial.