Speech // thought

"Come Dearheart." Ignita murmured into the ear of her son Balrog, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she led him out of the Col and northward one sunny mid morning. Over the winters bluster she had seen great plumes of steam rise up from this direction. But none since summers start.

The sunny heat pervaded even here at the steaming pools. She expected the earth to rumble beneath her but all was quiet and still. She looked back at her handsome boy, her pride and joy. How could it be that her heart was beating inside her chest when she felt like she had five hearts running around without her? Each one unique and beautiful. What was the world like through his jet-black eyes? Glistening in facets as they caught the light. He seemed to get along well with them, never showing any signs of blindness.

She walked around one of the pools, the smell strong, the heat more intense below than from above.

"Whatch those toes! They're far hotter than the springs at home." She cautioned as she leaned over a small pool and glanced at him in the reflection.

Balrog followed close behind his mother, his paws making soft crunching sounds as they moved through the thinning snow. The steam rising from the pools ahead beckoned him with a strange curiosity, like the beating of a drum in the distance. He flicked his ear when Ignita’s words reached him, her voice a soothing contrast to the silent intensity of their surroundings.

His obsidian eyes swept across the landscape, drawn to the ever-present shimmer of heat. "It feels alive," he muttered to himself, the warmth almost tangible, like an unseen force pressing against his fur. His claws scraped lightly against the earth as he hesitated near the edge of a pool, watching as tendrils of steam spiraled upwards, vanishing into the open air.

At his mother’s caution, he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You think I’ll slip and burn myself, Mother?” he teased, lifting a paw to hover it over the surface, feeling the heat radiating upward. He glanced back at her reflection in the pool, seeing the soft lines of her face juxtaposed against the harsh, unforgiving landscape. It reminded him of the balance they so often walked: the edge of life, where danger and beauty entwined. "It's different than home," he added quietly, his gaze falling back to the steaming water, "but it's alive in its own way."
"Balrog"

Speech // thought

She watched with pride as he observed the world. As she saw him lift a paw over the surface she grimaced with a flash of concern then a consternated grin. A shake of her head, she rolled her eyes at him. Just like his father, teasing her and pushing the boundaries.

"Of course, I don't think you will, I just worry you might." She exasperated.

She walked a different pool, her eye watching him carefully as her paws dug into the strange ground. Gritty, nigh salty. How close to the ocean was this? She wandered behind him so she could glance westward and still have him in her sights. The ocean licked the shore a ways away. The sounds were deafened by the distance.

"I thought I saw a great shoot of water once in the winter. I wonder if they shoot up during other times." She mused aloud. The water remained perceptively still in the perfectly round pools.