[P] if i burn the house down, it will be on purpose.

[Isorath]

Isorath A sweet and lethal fire consumes my soul In the pale moonlight, the dragon basked in his deathly glow. The moonlight painted him the iridescent color of the underworld, Isorath's unrelenting and dark fury. A weapon hewn from the whims of Gods, in the image of their grandness. They are power given form, magic given flesh. A weapon that has been pointed and given purpose, and so he peered outward with an unblinking stare as another Winged Kirin dances into view, another piece of Isorath's home brought to these foreign shores. She laughed, and the spines along his muscular body ripple and reflect the mirth she poured out into the night air. The gruff reptilian purr which eminated deep within an armored chest echoed in the barren wilderness around them as the Dragon's thoughts pulled inward, along the gilded strands of their bond to attract the attention of the Dragon Prince. Your cousin is here, she wonders who upset you, he hummed in good humor. He can feel the laughter Isorath uttered in response. It is light and wicked as it plucked the strings between them. The Prince in question had returned to the Gates, if only to check on if the Guards had kept to their promise. No one in, no one out past the first light in the wake of the Dragon's fire. Such was the will of the Regime, heralded by the force of magic and dragons. They naturally, regarded him with a healthy dose of fear and respect, as he had fluttered onto those ramparts once more. Wrapped in his silks and gold, radiant and fearsome in the next breath. But the Kirin has now drowned them out, with the announcement that another piece of his family has come to him. Come to this place that is not home, but will make do. Where the magic is different than the hum of the arcane in their blood, and their bond of ancients is forced to slumber until they can reconnect their severed tendrils. "Everyone and no one, my dear cousin." Came his laughing response, fringed with mirth as he stepped out upon the stones to peer down at her. She hasn't aged a day, such is the privelege of their dragon's blood. Ethereal as the World ravaged itself upon Time's blade. His waterfall hair is caressed and pulled by the winds, soft waves become banners upon the breeze. They catch in the light and their opalescent shimmer glowed, so bright that it would put the moon's own serenity to shame. In the Moonlight he is serene, and ever so deadly. The duality of a finely crafted blade. "It is a long story, come," he beckoned with a warmth reserved for family, and family alone, "and we may laugh over it together." Isorath mused and then paused. He had been fortunate to be reunited with his Dragon shortly after his arrival to these god abandoned lands, and Asharru's absence from the skies and beside her bonded pulled a sympathetic chord within him. "I trust the journey was not too difficult, and is Asharru safe?" The question is accompanied by Gilgamesh's own hum of questioning, gravelled and deep, the door into the holding is pulled open by his teke in his next breath, a gesture for his cousin to go first. TAG: @Tanith NOTES: COUSINS UNITE "this here is your speech colour!