08-23-2015, 06:38 PM
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
While empathy may have been a rather appealing trait, it was not enough to motivate me. Governor I was for five good years, and though near the end I could not be accounted for, I am proud of my work. Had I not been present and loyal during Straia’s takeover, something tells me that the Chamber would not quite be what it is today. I am a small facet of it now, but back then, I was one of two people supporting the great queen we see now, commanding a vast herd of subjects.
Alas, as mighty as that vision may be, it is not one for me. I am growing old – salt sprinkles my sooty muzzle, though the rest of my coat still glimmers and shines. Ever since childhood I have known that I would not rule; Mother may have been a queen, but I am ever only a servant. And even when I am rewarded, it is within me to fail.
And yet, I have no regrets or shame.
As always, I spend my day languidly. The morning greets me warmly, and with a thought my body mimics the sunrise. The afternoon treats me with sweet grasses which no longer grow atop the re-growing pine trees, proof that nature will always trump magic. And as the stars crawl over the sky’s pelt, I find myself drawn into the light.
It’s been like this for days now.
I’m standing close to the tree, as close as I may without scalding my golden pelt. Well, naturally golden. While the flames cast dancing shadows, across my dusky pelt, silver wolves race. They are perfectly imagined, their teeth sharpened to a point, their eyes glinting in the light of the moon which floats calmly on the top left of my neck. Staring intently into the magic fire, a true wolf howls in the distance, and upon my coat, an illustrated one does, too.