once warmed my hands over a burning maserati

He had returned from his mission abroad, sneaking around borders and taking in little details. He'd scented fire in the eastern regions of boreas, and elected to return home with the news. Perhaps it would be an opportunity for the empire. Broad paws struck the earth at an easy, rolling gait as the male sauntered back home. As he reached the castle, a familiar scent caught his attention. Rain. The little healer he'd spent a wonderful evening with by the falls. A thoughtful hum rumbled through his chest, and the phoenix detoured down a flight of crumbling steps into the bowels of the castle. Rain's scent seemed to wash over every inch of the stairwell, and only grew stronger the further he descended.

Rust and blood bore similar scents, and to mingle the pair together was to elicit only excitement from the likes of the chaotic godling. Crown low between his shoulders, the male slunk through the dungeon. Lengths of rope, broken links of chain scattered to and fro, and the lingering aroma of bile. What a delightful hellscape he'd wandered into. The wave of adrenaline that had chased him home from the smoky north was cresting, and his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He could taste the decay in the air. Was this the site of Rain's experiments?