Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5824038-20150620140931/@comment-5614539-20150627114000

''He felt it before he saw it or heard it: the incredible heat from a raging, twisting, fearsome inferno. Helpless, the young Prometheus listened to the terrified screams of his family... his mother. "Help! Help! Make it stop!" they screamed, louder and louder in that orangey-red blossom of beautiful, beautiful death.

As Prometheus watched, a line from his favourite story came to his lips; The red blossoms of death, oh, they are beautiful so, and yet I am the true monster.'' His face remained impassive as the burning continued, flurried from his own fingers, and fuelled from within the house. She wasn't meant to be there. he thought dully. ''She was supposed to be far away... But... It's too late now. The beauty, it is upon us.'' He thought he heard the singing of his sisters, wailing in lament kf their own death. ''They deserved it. All except her...''