» A New Frontier

Heaven if you sent us down So we could build a playground you'd be so proud of what we've made "MEL!" Iskra crows triumphantly as she slips in beside him, a warm breath of honey-scented air following her. Smells more than anything have a way of touching deep into our memories, of transporting us to times passed, and so it is Iskra is back on the heated sands of the Throat, cheerful and care free in his youngest era of boyhood, chasing monsters which were only pretend with his filly friend Melita. It tugs at something in his heart, maybe grief over something forever lost will sink in later, but for now Iskra can only cherish the relief at seeing her familiar face, the happiness of much fonder times. He reaches to sweep her up in a winged hug, laughing boisterously, as if there weren't a malformed devil just feet from them in an utterly alien and hostile realm. They were swiftly reminded however as the great, monstrous voice barked out. Iskra at once stiffened, as if the words were a crack against his back and not just the vibration of the air around them. He pulled in closer to Melita, whether to serve as her shield or find comfort in her presence wasn't entirely clear. Volterra offered a nice distraction as his rumbling voice called to him. It was so achingly familiar, bidding the herd to its command under the Sun; Iskra wished it would do the same here, would hold that same authority and confidence. Yet, for what Volterra had to say, it was not with his Sultan's baritone, just the weariness of a man that was as lost and broken as the rest of them. Iskra bright features faltered, confused. Volterra told them to summon him if need be, but from where, and how if they weren't staying together? He said the Throat lived on in them, but as he moved to walk away with his son, it was clear that every last granule had already blown free from his coat, the fire had grown cold in his veins in the absence of the Sun. Iskra stared out after him, wanted to chase him down and scream, lead us then, if we are what remains, if we are a family forged beneath heat and dust! He didn't however, because he could see it plainly now that the golden glow of his once sultan had dimmed and washed off beneath the Rift's endless downpour - Volterra was without heart. He'd lost it, that precious ability to love wholly and completely, somewhere in Helovia. Like the Wildfire's last burn had scorched it out of Ampere, so the crumbling of the Mountain That Knows had buried and suffocated it from Volterra. He was a heartless shell of a man, going through the daily machinations because his bloodline still needed him, as Iskra had of her, and because he had something fierce to hold between his teeth still; the bitterness of vengeance on his tongue as it slid down his throat and into the gaping hole where his heart once resided. Ampere had filled her hole with liquor because she'd had no one to blame, not really, but Volterra would fill his with blood and the bone marrow of a dismantled and decimated Kaos. "C'mon, we better listen," Iskra mumbled to Melita as he nudged her beside him, finally tearing his gaze from the Indomitable as he drifted past sight. "Besides, I'm curious!" Iskra stuffed it all behind his smile as he turned to run off with Melita and explore. he'd trade his guns for love I s k r A but he's caught in the crossfire

@Melita
@Volterra for mention