<span style="font-family: 'Arial'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#666600">The stubborn Ilimos boy was not the first to join the House of the Obsidian Sun under less than ideal circumstances. He was also not the first to openly defy his new place where his old life was no longer an option. Viktor was older than the years reflected from his body, seen only in the soul that echoed from his eyes that currently mirrored the flames from the bonfires just outside. Though perhaps that was not just a trick of the light, but something else, as the warlord’s gripping touch was hotter than it should have been, and lingered still, a white hot aftermath, on Mischa’s skin once he had released him to stumble. <br/>
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He did not react when the boy stumbled away and fell in a heap at his feet, merely waited like a still pillar for him to rise again. The smile that etched itself into Viktor’s face was chilling as well as calculating once the boy did rise, meeting him stare for stare, something that was only broken when Viktor strode past the boy and into the hall, his ears tuned to make sure that the boy did not try to run or remain behind once he did lead them through the maze of hallways that comprised the servants’ quarters of the House, until the candlelit walls that danced up toward the ceiling opened up into an open hall of red sandstone, the floors and walls draped with tapestries to protect bare feet and insulate the surrounding area. A fountain bubbled playfully in the center, but the rest was open to the elements from two sides, held up by a foundation of pillars. It was here that the desert could be seen stretched out further than the eye could see, with the festivities clear in sight. <br/>
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“We go to dance,” Viktor finally replied once the boy had emerged with him. Once more, the dark stare found the face of Mischa, studious and unreadable except for the flicker of fire that leapt excitedly from their obsidian depths. “You are weak in body, but you are strong in mind. Your wits will have to guide you in this fight, which will not be against me, but against the flames. If I were you, I would not fight them as you do me - and your new place. The fire cares not whether any part of you comes out unscathed.”<br/>
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Without another word or even another glance over his shoulder, Viktor moved as if he were one with the sifting sands that clutched at his bare feet, still warm from the heat of the sun, yet the air teased briskly with the rising of the moon, a contrast to the stark heat of the day. The sky was its own deep blue ocean spun full of twinkling stones further up than any man or even god had dared to travel, while the moon was a luminous bulb that encapsulated it all. Smoke streamed and curled up towards the sky as the heat from multiple fires rose up from effigies put together earlier thay. The smell of woodsmoke and smoked meat, vegetables, and fruit wafted through the air, mingling with the spicy undertones of sweat glistened bodies that undulated in time to the music that guided the lot of them. Shirtless men, dressed akin to what Viktor himself wore, with only simple linen to cover their lower extremities as they danced around - and then through - the burning flames of two of the bonfires that crackled blue and purple and green as the flames stroked the bronzed frames like erratic lovers. To the left, two rings had been set up with a different set of flames offering their guile. In one, a lone woman stripped down to nothing but a scrap of cloth wrapped around her chest and braided together at her neck to hold her breasts and a low hanging skirt that opened up on either side of a pair of shapely hips. A python of flames curled around her body, shifting and moving with every placement of her feet, every pop of her hips, and every roll of her shoulder. Only if one were to look closely enough, the braid of flames never touched her - not her skin, not the fall of dark hair that kissed her waist, and not the clothes that hugged as well as draped. <br/>
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The other ring had two women, two men, who drank liquid fire, only for them to open their mouths wide and become like ancient dragons to spew forth the flames in an array of colors toward the audience that they had accrued. One man even spun himself around with two chains dangling from his fist, creating a flurry of colored fire that spat patterns through the air as rapidly as he twirled in a circle, followed by one of the women, until they were both circling one another in rapid fury.<br/>
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“Pick one, and we shall dance with the fire, boy.”<br/>
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With those words, Viktor tossed his head back and laughed, a sound that boomed inside his chest and erupted from his mouth in a thrilled roar. Bowing mockingly, the taller man wickedly swept his arm out to gesture toward the festivities. </span></span>