Azulon_
Legacy Name: Azulon_

I’ve heard there are two types of anger: the hot breed and the cold breed.

I am possessed of both.

Anger is my poison of choice. I find it much more… effective… than any of the other emotions I could allow to afflict me. No other feeling can empower the way anger does. Not sadness, not joy, not even the fool’s notion of love can rouse a scant portion of the pure, unbridled power that comes from anger. It is passion in its fullest form, and, if wielded correctly, a man can bring down an army with nothing more than the force of his anger.

I know. I’ve done it.

It’s a beautiful thing, to watch something burn for no other reason than because you will it so. Long ago, I was a boy who delighted in mischief, and my mother would shake her old, wooden spoon at me and scold me for setting fire to the little legions of ants who marched under our dusty windowsill during the summer months. I was only playing with fire, then, just beginning to dapple in my powers, but even so, I knew it was my annoyance with the tiny pests that allowed me to strike the spark that set them to sizzling.

Now, I have more than annoyance to drive me, and my fire is more than a mere spark. Now, my anger swirls within me like an enraged tornado, consuming everything in its path, turning all of my grief, all of my regret, into a hellish brew of vengeful fury. Memories flash painfully before me, searing through me like a million tiny wounds, and I shove them into the fire, fueling my fury, until it’s so heavy and violent I feel I might break beneath its savage weight. The anger is so pure, so potent, I can’t contain it. It rages against me, its vicious claws raking like hot pokers through my insides, screaming for release.

I grant it.

Fire soars from me, as swift and fierce as a phoenix, with destruction riding on her glowing wings. The phoenix is wild and greedy. Uncontrollable. She leaves nothing but soft ashes and utter devastation in her wake.

Sometimes, after the fire has left me empty, and I am free to stare at the wreckage I have wrought, I still marvel at the power of hot anger.

Cold anger is different. Even the mildest of us can summon up enough ire, enough red-rimmed memories, to call on the orange flame, though few can claim my level of mastery. In cold anger lies the real skill, the real power. The first time I felt it… I thought my blood had turned into ice. It came upon me like a crouching tiger, slowly stalking its prey, both beautiful and unstoppable. The force of it was… almost frightening. No one recollection could account for the emotion that overtook me… if it could even be called emotion.

Numbness, perhaps, is the better word. Cold anger may best be described, not as a feeling, but as an utter lack of feeling. An impassiveness that comes from countless years of wondering why. Why me? Why can I not care about another? Why can I not see, why can I not feel, anything, but the anger? Was I born for nothing more, is there no more to my existence, than a constant cycle of pain and suffering? What kind of creature am I, that must always feel as I do?

Before I know it, I am shaking and there are blue flames licking at the palms of my clenched hands, burning with frosty heat, whispering softly, tantalizingly, in the darkest corners of my mind.

Let me go. I will visit your pain upon the world. All the agonies you have endured, all of the hate you have carried, all of the loneliness you have suffered… They will seem as paradise, compared to the desolation I will bring in your stead. Let me go…

And so I do… And I watch in terrible amazement as the blue-hued flames engulf… everything.

…Such is the power of anger, and the simple splendor of fire. I am the angel of wrath, the bringer of cold, fiery death. Place a forest before me, and I will leave you with nothing but blackened twigs and icy, smoldering embers. Let me face the most vile, the most terrible of dragons; I will pit my flame against his, and do it with a small swagger in my smile. There is enough hatred, enough bitterness in me, to fuel a flame for all eternity, and no one can match me when it comes to the art of fire.

Art:

x x by NikonD40

x xby me

Credits:

Originally coded by: dreamsky
Edited by: OceanSoul
Writting by: Mandee
Overlay by: OceanSoul