#( running around as ironblood deserter - w/e u think is best!! )

[brokenmagxc]

@taleswritten / and even if the fire could stop the bleeding ( singe the skin and sew the flesh ) there was no mistaking the scarring BURN that would leave its mark upon him. / to a shield of flames.

HE FINDS THAT HIS BREATH HAS LEFT HIM in the other's presence, for when the man walks near, arthur struggles to fill his lungs with air. instead, the smell of SMOKE ( the rising flame, the ashen rock that crumbles into soot and smears grime upon his tongue ) consumes him. he coughs, drawing the faintest attention to his rattled form. still war-touched, with armor torn and blood smeared, eyes wide with concern ( a doe-like shock, for he is being violated by the sudden onslaught of abnormal sense, and in the calamity does he become SMALL ; in the grasp of something entirely too venerated, too death-defying, earth-shattering and immense, he feels he has crossed the line -- HE HAS SEEN WHAT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE VIEWED BY MORTAL EYES ), and he tries to look away without making eye contact, yet he fails when his gaze meets the others. eyes the color of clay begin to shift and mold, the golden aura glimmering behind each orb, threatening to burst under layers of carefully melded stone. a wince ; it hurts him so, staring into the flame ( and still, he finds himself now unable to look away ).

“ i -- ” he struggles, overwhelmed. he doesn't really know what to say. “ i mean no harm, to you and your -- and it. ”