The Academy: Now the actual post. LOL

“mos nunquam operor quisquam huic universitas vacuus virtus. Is est maioribus species of mens tunc ut veneratio"

He had always been the flames. Once when he first came the flame had been reduced to a simple candle’s flicker, but the Element, Wolfrange, they had added fuel to the dwindling flame. Now he had burned brighter than ever before, am inferno among earth and wind. His spirit was ablaze, his heart filled with more passion than he had ever known. He was happy with his flames, happy with the Element and his home. So many things had happened in this near year since he had arrived. He had changed dramatically. He was ready to serve his Wolfrange, almost ready to fight for it. The stallion was alive. He remembered a time when he had been a warrior, a time when he had been a Spartan among brawlers. That was a long time ago, and he had been a different fire than now. He had been reckless and young, where as now he was collected and wise. Now he saw life from a Scholar’s eyes, from his origins. From the eyes of a Celtic Lord. He saw no weakness in other elements, only brotherhood.

Nicodemus would rise, be it in his inferno or in ashes. He would be as a phoenix, as Caoimhe, reborn with his ashes. The stallion inhales as she stands before him.
Nicodemus defies the winter snow. He burns brilliantly against it, the snow melting at his touch. He was a fully-fledged fire horse, and he had Caoimhe and his flames to prove it. The firebird flies above him, her calls beautiful and loving if only for him. He is burning, and the winter does not touch him. The Academy calls to him for some reason. Perhaps it was that the Academy was his only constant, always unchanged despite his troubles. It was ethereal and almost holy, and Nicodemus loved it for this. He could think here, really think. He could teach, and others would listen to his thoughts unlike in the Range or the Reef. Though, his teachings were more action than words, because he still did not care much for words.

He was not looking for anyone, nor did he expect to run into anyone. Nicodemus had always preferred to be alone, because his words were often misunderstood and thrown back in his face. Because he was an untrusting creature afraid of betrayal and betraying. But the girl that he sees now captivates him. He does not know why, and he does not question, because Caoimhe had taken to her, and was now flitting to and fro in front of her. She was playing with her (or trying to), something that she had never done. This piqued his intrigue, and he stepped from his cloak of shadows to greet her. “It is unusual for Caoimhe to take to someone so quickly.” He nods, a smile placed upon his features. She may not understand him through his Celtic accenting, a horsey version of Sean Connery. “I am Nicodemus.”

nt>

LVL I

**NICODEMUS//CAOIMHE**

To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe.

Picture Copyright to Blinck at Deviantart