Warmth radiating from finger tips covered in the invisible ambrosia of blood pulled from beating chest, flesh lying fresh and preserved against warming stone and cooling frost. Warmth radiating from ice and stone intermingling through the shaft of the mine, pulsating and pushing out from it's origin. This was but one mine shaft, a finger extending out from the palm of the Ice cavern kept at neutral temperatures from interior geomorphic currents and exterior winds, the howl of which sent a resonating whistle through the threshold of the mine. The sound tumbled down the shaft like a ball, picking up speed and bouncing off the walls violently, shaking the walls with vibrations that mimicked the molecular structure of the stone. It was in these instances that Gabriel was reminded of collapses that often occurred. It was a business and always booming, an ecosystem changing and shifting and revealing more and more of itself with every turnover. It was a surprise that the planet hadn't cave in on itself like one gigantic sink hole.
His crimson eye followed the woman, his inner psyche drawn to the notion of apodyopsis. Gabriel mentally shook the thought from proximity, kicking Reverance for his carnal desires that rarely strayed from blood and often, even those things unrelated led back to the beaten and bloody. "We are what we are, capabilities form premises to which we are judged..." He stated calmly, agreeing with the sentiment of never knowing someone until seeing them in action. The truth of the matter is that he agree wholeheartedly with the idea that these men had been given the gift of death, an end to the longing for something more. There was nothing more in this life, nothing left to reach for, beyond the cool grasp that now gripped them. He was keen on the prospect that the weak had but two options: death or the knee. Often, one led to the other and even more important, the order didn't matter. The universe was quelled and quickened by the efforts of the strong. Order born from pain, peace destroyed in the name of it, and chains that shackled the strong forever removed by the destruction of dilution and perseverance of the weak. Gabriel's logic was monstrous, a concept that he had accepted as truth, but eased any regrets with overarching themes of necessity. For every weak soul removed from the gene pool, the universe was strengthened. In his desired end, the world would find decorum in the understanding that all were robust. It was hard to smell fear when their was no weakness to fuel it.
He smirked at her comment, speaking of his knowledge towards the sub terrestrial system and the mysteries that lied only within him. He wasn't sure if it was true, as additional shafts led out from the cavern, but for this specific area, she was likely right. He squinted his eye as he passed her, inspecting her for a brief moment, before leading the way down into the cavern. From within his robes, he pulled out a red cylinder and cracked it, revealing a bright orange glow that filled the empty space around him. The walls had shifted to mostly blue, taking on the distinct characteristics of a glacial cave. He descended down into the heart, the entire area was gargantuan and half lit by sun shinning through the roof of the cave. Snow, when melted and frozen, formed thick sheets of ice atop the cavern. Heating and convection currents wore away at this ice. With each blast of wind from the interior, melt water dripped from the ceiling and chipped away at the thickness of it. Heat brought about light, shinning hazily through the blue ceiling to reveal a cone of area in the center of the room. A stream formed in this system, flowing further down through holes into the system below, eroding away ice with heated water. Gabriel approached a wall, almost white, and touched the ripples. They had the appearance of curtains, wavy yet solid in texture. His nails scratched into the ice, frost forming on his finger tips. He turned his head to look towards [member="Inger Strömfire"] .
"Volcanic activity initial formed these walls...you can tell by the appearance. Even from the coldest of things, fire rises..." He spoke as his eye drifted up the wall, the orange glow from the flare revealing the extended depiction of complicated geothermal processes. Something he could explain, but it would serve no purpose. Empty words from a father long gone, little to no trace left. What purpose would those words served when first uttered from the mouth of someone with no worth.
