Furious Flames

Fel'thamar's scowl was ingrained on his features for approximately twenty-one seconds. Sexual conversations were a topic he preferred in the privacy of those he had confidence in. Gently, he rested his bearded jawline into his palm that supported his skull lazily. " . . . I am a simple creature. What do I find sexy, you ask? It's power. " Not even a second passed and his eyes darted to the side, realizing that not everyone may understand what he means. And so, he sighed deeply.

" The power through their abilities. The confidence to achieve their goals and to carry it well. But do not get that part twisted, for there is some a thing as over-indulgence in arrogance. And if one were to do so with my person, well... let's just say I have the means to put them in their rightful place. " Green lens narrowed, as if casting judgement on anyone who would disagree with him. " I appreciate blunt honesty, even if a tad cruel. I also find individuality attractive, as well... " That last phrase was stated as if there were someone that came to mind first rotation. " Tch... enough of this. " He huffed, his cheeks pinkened as he waved the other off. " Don't you have better things to do than try to play some sort of matchmaking game with I, Fel'thamar. "

[[ @safrona-shadowsun I think he's embarrassed. ]]

Singed fingertips upturned, bearing evidence of markings that hint at the injury from burns, likely from overindulgence. Flickers of emerald sparked to life on the tips of his nails, providing visual representation. His eyes squinted for a brief second as memories of the past coalesced in his mind.

" For every warlock, there is a beginning. And while I pride myself by referring to one of my titles as a Master Demonologist, it was the path of Destruction from which I was forged from. At an early age, the hues of autumn that are often associated with fire, mine had twisted into the sickly green. I am over seven hundred years and then some, so you could only imagine how well that was reciprocated amongst my people. " A wrinkle formed between his brows. A sharp huff followed that was further expressed through a glower. The flames orbited his hand as if it were a planetary force, forming silhouettes of multiple rings.

" Affliction, arguably, is where I have the least interest. Many do not even use it properly and I prefer my practices to be more direct. Not to say I'm not against expelling a curse. " His pointer finger extended, quite the opposite from the others that seemed to close in on his palm. In doing so, the spits of fire centered at the edges of his digit.

" Destruction has a simile to that of Fire mage. Remember, you can very well get burned if you bite off more than you can chew. It's all a matter of perspective and use. Rage is a common conduit associated with channeling that inner flame. But I'm still going to argue that it's better than their school. " The left corner of his lip curled with an egotistical grace. " Affliction is all about cursing and withering a soul down to nothing. It taps more into the shadows of one's heart. It is often utilized in grudges and vengeance rather well. A mistress of cruelty if you would. Cold and bitter. Sucks the life out of you one might say. "

His finger curled to rejoin the others. The flame slowly faded to nothingness and Fel'thamar relaxed on his wooden throne. But in the background, there was a set of eyes peering back. Both of the same, fel-tainted nature. " Demonology, however, has spits of these things but primarily focuses on the pillars of servitude. Domination. Utilizing your demonic minions' strengths and weakness. And the drawback is you may face domination in yourself if you do protect yourself. That being said... demonic bargains can sometimes become a... beneficial transaction, one might say. " Sharp, manicured nails reached from the shadows, rubbing at his shoulders. Their flesh a scarlet pigmentation. A feminie chuckle emanated from that set of eyes in the back. " After all, some of those demons you summon may have been something more than you anticipated. Some species have even been known to have been a different breed of creature before the Legion's influence. And sometimes... service is far better when its voluntary. Isn't that right Dehlia? "

" Ohhhhhh yes yes yes. I never tire of hearing my Master speak of his practice and how it makes proud to have been his summon all those years ago. Even after all these years, he still has that fire in his eyes. " The shadowy silhouette of a horned femme crooned with delicious delight. " It's a shame he doesn't spoil me as much as he used too! ~ " Fel'thamar grumbled and tore his shoulders away from her touch, huffing softly. " Behave yourself, Dehlia. Or I'll send you back. "

[[ @handhourgalleries hope this stokes your fire ;3 ]]

sentence and suddenly, you are able to see that he is knitting with a shadowy fabric.

" Enchantment. Tailoring. A proficient, old-fashioned trade that while it is most common amongst the fields of magic, my work is phenomenal! You won't find many who will hand-knit or sew with the hands that cause destruction! That's right! I am a creator too! I bet you didn't see that coming, did you? "

He placed his tools down into his lap and proceeded to show the world the pair of thick, black socks that seemed to imbue with a faint, purple glow on them. " You won't find socks of this quality that can keep your feet from freezing anywhere else! "

[[ @handhourgalleries thanks for knitting this together for me ]]

I believe this song will suffice for something that transpires in Fel'thamar's life consistently. Anger. Rage. A blooming fire that he could not contain. The fire within him never seems to go out. It only dies down, at the ready to flare back up again. But never ever quite beats the first time you absolutely lose it.

Seven hundred sum odd years and he still has dynamite inside of him. However, the fuse is far more remote than freely offered as he ages.

For the most part, not very much. There will always be his connection to them and the things he had done. He takes care to make sure his eldest son doesn't get himself into any trouble he cannot handle being a half demon and all. Meanwhile, his daughter occasionally makes a note to visit both sides of her father. But for the most part, Fel'thamar keeps to himself and only makes soft visits to his son, daughter, and Solexstras.

[ @losseignol thank you for the question! He's not much of a family body these days. ]

He won't admit it, but his deepest fear is he will fade into nonexistence and won't be remembered for his achievements or the impacts he had made on people. He always strives to be the best at what he does. So typically, he makes as many influences as he can with those that direct themselves in his path. Some of which are not exactly the warmest welcomes but it's all a matter of finding out what's behind that scowling exterior.

[[ It's not much of a fear, but I hope it will suffice @themadamelioness ! ]]

Fel'thamar heard the voice speak to them, but he didn't seem to pay it any mind at first. Though, there request was rather specific in his eyes. And thus, all they were gained was silence. Well, if by silence you mean the sounds that one makes when they are in idle then yes. His crimson brow lofted while he stared at the pages of a book in his lap by the name of How to deal with Ungrateful Mages. Every time he turned a page, his eyes darted left and right, taking in the information at a bullet's pace.

The only reprieve the man seemed to have during his readings was when he extended a hand to partake of his steamy beverage of green tea. Little sips were taken, the scowl giving pass as the warmth caressed his esophagus all the way to his stomach. And once his beverage ran out, it was time to shut that book and leave it tucked on his coffee table.

It seemed this man had concluded his usual nightly ritual. He stood, carefully walking through his home to turn out all lighting all the way back to a bedroom in the back. And then, that light went out in his bedroom, leaving the reader in utter darkness.

He doesn't know what the mysterious shadow was expecting, but he most certainly didn't say any words of distaste or anger.

Get your mind out of the gutter…I’m referring to summoning a demon.

The master demonologist stared quietly, anticipating some sort of punchline to choice of words. And he was right to let them finish it seemed. For if he had not, he may have called them out on being a closet pervert. But it seemed they tried to already flip it back onto him.

He rumbled, squinting his gaze. " Says the one that assumed I was already thinking that way. You know what they say: The guiltiest felhound always barks the loudest. " He rolled his eyes and laid back in his comfortable chair, this was a tell he had no issue speaking about.

" My very first summon was much like any warlock trainee. Imps are easy. Simple. They are little hellions that throw fireballs. And they are born from Imp Mothers. A species that at the time, not many of our kind had a clue about. " He stared into a nearby mug, one that swirled with a heated beverage. " Gliptok is his name. And for the longest time, I hated him. I felt as though he was not an extension of my true power. But more of a footnote. That isn't entirely true. " He shook his head, casting his fel-tainted gaze towards the nearby darkness. " I was most definitely satisfied that to find I could summon a demon, especially in her honor. I will always appreciate the teachings of my master, even something as small and minuscule as Gliptok. "