dev 3 - control

Ascending upon the highest peaks of the mountain, eventually, Nathan ended up peering into fiery abyss before him - the heart of volcano, full of lava and fiery heat waves. Of all places on Agartha, this would have to be the most heated place of all, the concentrated field for Fire Elementals and the likes.

Worthy training ground for the young Cruor.

Steadily, the sweat began to gather upon his brow, signifying just how hot it was in here. Someone of his age shouldn't be around here, but the temptation to become something more than just yet another target to be abused and another name on the island was always there. He would never settle for something so simple.

Not if he could help it.

"So this is how the heart of the fire looks like..."

Truly wondrous sight. Even now, despite seeing it with his very own eyes, there was always ponder and awe to such things; but rather than wasting his time, he decided to prepare himself, the cloak carefully placed down and revealing fairly light clothes beneath. Despite his trips to the mountain, this magic of fire has kept him warm. He never really needed much clothes.

This shouldn't be so difficult, right?

At first, he had to remember what Yasuyoshi has told him about, of all the emotional drive that kept him going. What was it that he despised the most in his current state, the weakness that was shown to be apparent no matter how much he tried to hide it away?

How Nethradin and Demons blatantly abused him on the mountain.

With the roots of drakanite and a single drop of divinity that courses his veins, this should be sufficient source. A single inhale, and his hands stretched out - far to the source of heat, to the warmth.

Preparing, oblivious to what surrounds him.
(Nathan Cruor)

On an errand wholly new to him, the elder Naam patrols the lip of the volcano, in hunt of creatures of his own. He's already zipped back and forth a few times in the nearly desolate area that used to be home to the Invidia family, and on his second trip back to the more familiar side, he spots a boy climbing to the peak before turning to face the magma pit at the center of this heated place.

For the moment, he keeps his distance, watching the boy who seems lost in thought, though he did see him mouthing a few words, he's too distant to hear him, but he does at least recognize the distinctive shape of a mouth contorting as it speaks the word 'fire'. He slips in closer, though as he approaches, he settles down from the air, allowing the crunching of gravel under his feet alert the boy to his presence; better to let him know the old man's coming than to catch him by surprise and risk something unfortunate happening.

"You're one Aidan's friends, aren't you? One of the boys from the hero's club?"
(Esso Naam)

With each step taken, the apparent warmth surrounds Nathan; lost in the thought of what happened to him earlier on, of how he had to endure the abuse from Nethradin and Demons without being able to do a thing while being so young... it burned inside him. Perhaps it was the hatred that Yasuyoshi has spoken of, but in Nathan's case, it was more like a dragon's ire, steadily growing as direct response for what happened to him.

So much so that heat waves seem to arise.

A steady flicker passes his fingertips. The brown haired youth furrows his brows, the rising heat causing his hair and clothes to flicker in response to the heatwaves; the whole area seems to be a subject to an overbearing presence of the Cruor, born with the drakanite blood in his veins.

It almost feels as if walking into a dragon's den.

But before something significant could be launched, his ear perks up at the sound of pebble being moved, immediately turning with the spark of fire in his hands- surprisingly, it grew in size, almost akin to destructive fire about to be unleashed.

Yet, it's stopped in the final moment.

"...Yes. I am."

Such concentration on negativity, something to fuel his desire to lash out and let his fire burn and consume everything that could seemingly hurt him. The potential was there... dangerous and wild.

"Who are you?"

Yet, the heat didn't go anywhere. It was still there, threatening to grow further.
(Nathan Cruor)

The old man recognizes the heat of emotions; he'd known a great many pyromancers who fueled their fires with anger, rage, resentment, and more. Despite that, his first spoken word isn't chiding or encouragement; his first word is an even-tempered answer to the boy's question.

"My name is Esso Naam."

He tilts his head, watching the boy carefully to gauge his reaction to the old man's words.
(Esso Naam)

The spark that would never die out.

At least, that was the plan of his action. This training would allow him to master the control of fire and learn how to direct it properly, all while focusing it down around the area where the walks; if anything, the way volcano embedded itself in eternal fires, Nathan took upon very similar concept.

One in which the fires themselves seem to envelop him.

At its core, the fire magic was a very aggressive one, with its stances usually resulting in fearsome sight that would threaten to burn entire armies of soldiers. Much like some of the most famous pyromancers, his stance embodied aggressiveness, hostility and it fed upon emotions of anger rested within his heart.

The anger at the wicked that abused him this way.
At those that caused his family to be cornered.

He imagines that once he grows, many of them would pay, and oh would they pay dearly. Immense knowledge, coupled with burning passion for what he does and endless determination - it was a cocktail for disaster to his enemies, and that much was shown in how the heatwaves around Nathan manifested in fiery sparkles.

The sparkles threatening to engulf him whole.

Despite the expression of such hostility, there's a brief glance at Esso- an opportunity found in the presence of another. This technique often focused on pure, devastating fire that would devour everything that approaches it, didn't it?

"Good."

"Approach me. Try to reach out."

There's no particular rush, but Nathan just stands there, turning to the old man. Even though there was no attack, no attempt to harm him...

Something is off. Something that shrouds him.
(Nathan Cruor)

The old man glances from the boy to his hand, then back to the boy. He squints his eyes when he challenges the old man to approach him and try to reach out.

"I'm not your enemy. If you're looking for assistance in your training though.."

He takes one step, then another towards the boy. He holds up his hand, taking another few steps tentatively towards him; he'd stop once he's about ten feet away unless some force stops him sooner.
(Esso Naam)

The heart of the firestorm.

Raging fires were latching onto the ground, seemingly even burning against the hard rock that they stood upon; while Esso approached, so did Nathan in return, causing the entirety of the air around them to flicker and exhaust itself out of the oxygen. Closer he walked, it almost seemed as if those fires weren't anything natural.

But burned as hot as the fires of Hel and Ifraheim.

Here, in the center of Agarthan heat, the volcano, he had the fortune to meet another to observe just how much fire can affect someone else, and how it can be so impossibly suffocating. With each step taken, Esso could understand just one thing.

There's almost no oxygen to breathe with around him.

For all of it dies, burning immediately as it flows. It's almost like being locked in a burning building, leaving one with naught but desire to flee- he was not only inheritor of the drakanite blood, but also the divine, fuelling his fires through emotion upon which he wished death.

Luckily, not to Esso - but to those that wronged him.

"Breathe in."

There is no time for him to speak of being one's enemy or not; while Nathan's suffocating presence is there, one thing is clear... if he really wanted to attack, he already would. But he's not attacking him, opting out to test the limits of fire.

Of how the flickering tongues of flames try to reach out to the elder male.

"And endure."

Bold, assertive, and even aggressive. The defining traits of fire magi, and the young Cruor had it all. Though, for Esso?

It almost feels as if the melting ground beneath his feet would let him slip through.
(Nathan Cruor)

For Esso, who'd always been acclimated to extremes in temperature from his travels, and especially the heat after living about half his life at the foot of the volcano, even he isn't immune to the effects of burning oxygen and the building heat in the air around them. Even for the volcano, it's stifling.

He draws in no breath, and he releases minimal air, his breathing having stopped once he got close enough to not pull in a full breath. His outstretched hand closes and he stops even as the fire magi exercises his power. His skin is starting to redden from the heat as his hand falls to his side. He's still standing there, though from the looks of it, he might be nearing his limit of heat.
(Esso Naam)

Rage.

The catalyst to these fires, and their pure, raw source of power; with each step taken, this heat only further intensifies, until it seems to reach out to Esso just as much as he reaches back; where the glimmering red and yellow tongues of flames evoke their destructive power on everything they could possibly reach - even him.

At the moments like those, he taps into the deepest wishes, the deepest feelings of resentment and disappointment that already had the time to occur in his life- perhaps, Agartha was truly a mess of the place if at such young age he already experienced such things, and how the heat would flicker and burn everything while he walked.

Flames.

Fire was taking precedent. As much as the furious flames were bolstering their power over everything, there was a degree of control- and when a single tongue of flame reached out to lick Esso across his skin and leave a burn mark, it's pulled back in the final moment, leaving the reddened skin instead.

Control.

For where it remains, the intense heat seems to grow stronger with the flicker of the dragon's might amidst those flames, only suddenly to release it outward in a brief wave; those fires steadily dissipating in thin air, leaving the young Cruor hidden amidst the fires for a moment.

If only to soon reveal him, standing on the burned ground. It's at that point of release, he stands there pondering over just how much damage this could inflict, and just how far he could go.

"...Interesting."

"Your assistance is welcomed."

But it's about as far as it goes. This degree of control was achieved, and that is exactly what he wanted. Now, there would be more.
(Nathan Cruor)