i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricaneOf course she douses the flames. She doesn’t even have to think about it, honestly. The ravens have become an extension of her so thoroughly now that they simply turn to water on their own and descend, smothering the flames as quickly as he sets them. Her kingdom has burned too many times, and it would likely burn again. She would try to save it from that fate, but Beqanna clambered for war, the Chamber clambered for power. And she would give it to them all, but there was always a price. The trees, the mist. They could be the ones to pay the price. Like they always have. Like they always will.
She watches him through the eyes of her ravens. There are many above him now, not all water. Some simply follow him, watch him, and he’ll know it’s her. But he lets her come to her anyway, lets him stalk through the kingdom lighting it on fire with his anger. In some ways, he reminds her of the child she once was. Petulant, expecting one thing and getting another. But Kingslay doesn’t change, doesn’t seem to grow or age or be anything other than exactly what he is, and so the child-like anger does not surprise her. Does not bother her. She can quell the fire, and that is the important point.
There is some ash in the air now. Bits of the land are charred, but this is normal in the Chamber. The ash that settles on her back feels normal, feels like home. And finally, he finds her, clues of his path to her evident in the landscape. The word hangs between them for a moment while she simply looks at him, though her own eyes now. “Of course I am. But not about this. I never once promised you she’d stay the same. I do not control her.”
And of course, this is true. Straia does not control the world like a full magician can. Straia can only send her ravens to do her bidding. She can find the girl. She can perhaps steal the girl (though getting around Yael would be tricky). But she cannot make the girl stay a naïve, innocent girl. “You cannot honestly tell me you didn’t expect her to grow up. You are smarter than that, even if you don’t admit it to yourself.”
Clearly, his anger doesn’t phase her. She is surrounded by monsters, after all. She is a queen of so many creatures, and she has quickly learned how to handle them all. As best as monsters can be handled of course, which isn’t terribly well. “We are not the type to be loved, Kingslay. We are the type to take what we want, but do not expect your feelings to be returned. Remember what we are. Everyone else does.” She gestures to the bits of destruction left in his wake. This is what everyone else sees when they look at him. At her. They see destruction and pain and death. Because that is what horses like Kingslay and Straia bring. In different ways, but in the end, it’s all the same.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
