@AZARSCURSED
THE SAME CLARITY perforated the red avatar's mind like the cultist blade that had pierced the heart of his mother those years ago. there was something that freak was telling him. /freak./ he was the freak, mordecai, not you, this nameless and shapeless entity that had marked him in body and spirit for a purpose he couldn't fathom, and yet here you are: the one who hunts, the one who burns, the one who remains in perpetual isolation. it felt as though mordecai had spent his entire life living off the surrounding land and amongst the tall standing trees, but there was a greater depth to him, one that made itself known through these new premonitions seeping into the recesses of his psyche. visions of a darkness spreading out and swallowing his fire, and instead of fighting it (his usual response) he was drawn to the innards of the void, enticed by it somehow whilst the light of his rage slowly begun to die.
it made him angry. everything had, that day. a wave of cultists had made their attempt on him only to be left barely alive by the dragon king in his untamed fury asides from his usual hunting route, and his confusion hadn't lessened since then, only strengthened as he forged his way back towards the flames stoked within the cabin he was housed in, singlet hugged tight against his frame with his hair hanging low and dark over piercing red eyes, which held an equal division of ire and something else, something brought out by these visions and what they could signify. but to even conceptualise fear of an impossible unknown was equated with defeat to him; unlike raven the instinct he felt was not to look deeper but to push back, to fight it. to fight /her/ instead of succumbing to whatever it was influencing him to do the opposite.
