It's hot. He's had that thought before so many times. The heat pours in and washes over him and he leans back, breathing shallowly to ride out the shock of the switch. The taste of ash. The feeling of a strong wooden staff against the backs of his robed shoulders. The hood over his face and partly in his eyes keeps the worst of the glare at bay.
He lifts his right hand and stares at it. Normal flesh greets his eyes. The forelock of hair plastered to his face with sweat is still white. He shoves it out of the way. The sight that greets him is sheer hell. His breath escapes him before he can hold it back and the air that comes back into his mouth and throat is heavy and doesn't help at all.
Shiro shoves his hood back and paces among the gathered people, weaving through them with steady steps. The fear etched on the faces of the prisoners is so familiar he would know it anywhere. People with no hope look like that. He draws the staff and slows his steps, eyes on the black skinned aliens that have faces enough like Galra to stir up a focused anger.
Claws. Probably teeth. Strength. The idea that this is a memory fades as he spins the staff, moving with sure purpose. Tails to dodge. A staff has long reach and while he isn't the fastest, he can make them suffer. It's nice and heavy too.
There won't be human blood spilled here if he has anything to say about it. He surges forward with deadly purpose and freezes cold as a voice made of growls and barks translates in his mind. Lord of the Inferno?
He glances back at the people as his blood turns cold. Are they going to sear them alive?! Light from above. He jerks the hood back over his head and uses it to lessen the glare. Flames spin faster and faster in a dizzying display. He looks away from it, gripping his staff as the earth beneath his feet seems to scream. The air too as if the world around him has a voice and only he is privy to it. He claps a hand over his ear and sinks down. "Stop it. Qui-"
Dirt and debris fly up as something crashes into the ground, and the blast of heat from it is as bad as times he got too close to explosions. He bites back a curse and catches movement behind him. His gaze snags on Castor. Her hair is shorter and she looks a little younger, but he recognizes her from the way she moves. Light, like she could fly over the ground.
Well, at least he knows who he needs to help. He turns back as words pour into his soul that have no right to invade. The Earth beneath him whispers angrily and the wind curls around him as if waiting for his word. The beast roars as he whispers to the wind to gather close. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing but earth and wind are answering him.
Hit it with a rock comes to mind. He chuckles despite himself. It's that or get enraged and he can't afford that right now when the begging people need help. The beast roars and his laugh that had bubbled up again halts. He throws up his arms to shield himself as blue flames roar over him but lets the earth strike and rocks rip past him. It doesn't do anything but pass through. He turns catching sight of Castor again with her cat eared friend.
No one is burned alive but as the silence descends a horrible dread rears up from and the earth's lament doesn't spell anything good.
'O-oh mighty Ifrit!'
His stomach lurches and he covers his mouth with his hand as acid coats the back of his tongue. He breathes through his nose to ride out the nausea. He can't get sick. The memory keeps going, uncaring of his feelings and he's kind of grateful for that as the earth offers him solace. He thanks it and takes it into himself. Instinct.
Impossible! By what sorcery do you resist my master's will!?
"More like your evil overlord but, who am I to judge?" He mutters to himself and straightens up, planting the butt of his staff against the ground and rising to his feet. He thacks his staff against one open palm and takes the time to just breathe. This is heading towards a fight and the beast keeps talking he pulls on the earth. It answers him eagerly. Like it wants to bash the thing to pieces. Good to work with a like minded partner.
With heat like that he doesn't dare get closer. His staff wouldn't like it. But if the earth and wind will keep working with him...he glances to Castor one more time.
"Go time?" A blast of renewed, worse heat than ever before nearly takes him from his feet. Shiro digs his staff into the ground and growls, leaning into the blast. Weapons are drawn and the challenging roar is enough for him.
He's going to give this offender new meaning to Hit it with a rock. "Go! I'll cover you!" He calls to the two still sane. Even if this is just a memory. He's going to see this through. If it loops...well.
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He lifts his right hand and stares at it. Normal flesh greets his eyes. The forelock of hair plastered to his face with sweat is still white. He shoves it out of the way. The sight that greets him is sheer hell. His breath escapes him before he can hold it back and the air that comes back into his mouth and throat is heavy and doesn't help at all.
Shiro shoves his hood back and paces among the gathered people, weaving through them with steady steps. The fear etched on the faces of the prisoners is so familiar he would know it anywhere. People with no hope look like that. He draws the staff and slows his steps, eyes on the black skinned aliens that have faces enough like Galra to stir up a focused anger.
Claws. Probably teeth. Strength. The idea that this is a memory fades as he spins the staff, moving with sure purpose. Tails to dodge. A staff has long reach and while he isn't the fastest, he can make them suffer. It's nice and heavy too.
There won't be human blood spilled here if he has anything to say about it. He surges forward with deadly purpose and freezes cold as a voice made of growls and barks translates in his mind. Lord of the Inferno?
He glances back at the people as his blood turns cold. Are they going to sear them alive?! Light from above. He jerks the hood back over his head and uses it to lessen the glare. Flames spin faster and faster in a dizzying display. He looks away from it, gripping his staff as the earth beneath his feet seems to scream. The air too as if the world around him has a voice and only he is privy to it. He claps a hand over his ear and sinks down. "Stop it. Qui-"
Dirt and debris fly up as something crashes into the ground, and the blast of heat from it is as bad as times he got too close to explosions. He bites back a curse and catches movement behind him. His gaze snags on Castor. Her hair is shorter and she looks a little younger, but he recognizes her from the way she moves. Light, like she could fly over the ground.
Well, at least he knows who he needs to help. He turns back as words pour into his soul that have no right to invade. The Earth beneath him whispers angrily and the wind curls around him as if waiting for his word. The beast roars as he whispers to the wind to gather close. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing but earth and wind are answering him.
Hit it with a rock comes to mind. He chuckles despite himself. It's that or get enraged and he can't afford that right now when the begging people need help. The beast roars and his laugh that had bubbled up again halts. He throws up his arms to shield himself as blue flames roar over him but lets the earth strike and rocks rip past him. It doesn't do anything but pass through. He turns catching sight of Castor again with her cat eared friend.
No one is burned alive but as the silence descends a horrible dread rears up from and the earth's lament doesn't spell anything good.
'O-oh mighty Ifrit!'
His stomach lurches and he covers his mouth with his hand as acid coats the back of his tongue. He breathes through his nose to ride out the nausea. He can't get sick. The memory keeps going, uncaring of his feelings and he's kind of grateful for that as the earth offers him solace. He thanks it and takes it into himself. Instinct.
Impossible! By what sorcery do you resist my master's will!?
"More like your evil overlord but, who am I to judge?" He mutters to himself and straightens up, planting the butt of his staff against the ground and rising to his feet. He thacks his staff against one open palm and takes the time to just breathe. This is heading towards a fight and the beast keeps talking he pulls on the earth. It answers him eagerly. Like it wants to bash the thing to pieces. Good to work with a like minded partner.
With heat like that he doesn't dare get closer. His staff wouldn't like it. But if the earth and wind will keep working with him...he glances to Castor one more time.
"Go time?" A blast of renewed, worse heat than ever before nearly takes him from his feet. Shiro digs his staff into the ground and growls, leaning into the blast. Weapons are drawn and the challenging roar is enough for him.
He's going to give this offender new meaning to Hit it with a rock. "Go! I'll cover you!" He calls to the two still sane. Even if this is just a memory. He's going to see this through. If it loops...well.
He'll come to that later.