07-06-2016, 09:05 PM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
He calls and they come and he is still wholly baffled by it. After all these years they are still loyal if not to him, then to the Chamber and that’s what really counts in his eyes. Dusk falls but they remain illuminated by the radiating heat and light from the flaming tree. Each flicker casts their shadows long into the forest and some seem to dance against the rough bark of the trees. More come than he expects, the resonating sound of his summons bringing bodies down from the mountains, faces untucking themselves from their slumber.
The crone is unfamiliar to him but she reeks of the rocky hills, smells deeply of the Chamber herself and so he nods his head in acknowledgement of her presence. Clytemnestra, the name weighs heavy on his tongue. Next to arrive is all too familiar, even as she sways, heavy with child into their meeting. Her sass is enough to curl the edges of his chalky lips but he does understand her predicament, “By all means Kimber, rain on my parade if you must.” Nymphetamine, hardly sparing a breath for a jape is soon to follow and he watches the conjurer closely. The man’s nostrils widened and his breathing came in deep drags, Killdare was not interested in their bickering and was glad when he pulled himself away from the water-color mare.
A chocolate female he does not recognize enters the gathering, mouthing openly and at this he simmers. Some would know best to hold their tongues but he remained otherwise placid at her harpings. And then something great happens, the dark figure bleeding from the mountains shadow and lit hauntingly by the flames.
Killdare’s eyes widened and his breath tugged heavy in his chest for a few beats before he settled. The General was not dead, not quite and if more appropriate the King might have eagerly went to the old man and proverbially smacked him on the back in comradery. The joy is a short lived one, he must harness his boyish gaiety and continue with the matter at hand. He straightens, leaving the broad grin the finds his chalky lips and motions for the war hardened ex-General to come forward, to take a place at his right. Anything could be soured though, the salty scent of brine finding his flexing nostrils. He’d smash the little purple bastard, right before the tree and all. It isn’t Kirin though, an unknown dark female carefully picking her way among them, a deep plum child tucked close to her side.
He knows it’s one of his nephews brood, a wayward mare that has perhaps sought refuge from the tyrannical lifestyle of a winged purple peacock. She speaks and solidifies his assumptions and he doesn’t bat an eye at her request. Any that stayed in that shit show was deserving of the half-life they experienced. This girl, she was smart as far as he was concerned. He could feel eyes from others still around them, those that did not creep forward from the shadows but felt more at home within their viel. A flash of green eyes in particular finds him and he looses a tendril of magma from his feet, twisting a thin ribbon river and sprouting rose blooms of molten earth.
She was there, even if she did not make herself known and he smirks to himself at the thought. My Malis.
“Warship is right, she wakes. She does not take kindly to threats or harassment of puppy dogs, can’t say I do either. Something else is stirring too, and I ask you all take precaution to be wary of the unknown. Of what might come.” He pauses, taking in each of them once more, his molten eyes tracking their movements before moving briefly on to the next. “First, Lupei and his lines have been henceforth banished from the Chamber. Dacia as well but I do not and can not request the same suffering of her children.” Her children, their children, he would not caste out his own sons in such a way- regardless of their Dam.
“Speaking of this old man. Warship, I’d be honored to have you at my side as Lord of the Chamber. I honor and encourage your counsel, you know her far better than I do.” In a manner of speaking Killdare was wet behind the ears compared to the immortal black best, the hardened once General, the man who had beat death time and time again.
The King doesn’t miss a beat with the rest of it, ticking of a list in his head that has spent some time simmering there. “Kimber, you’ll be the General of our army now. Well done. As such you have the choice to keep your wings or sport a pair of horns. If you do choose your wings I’m sure the Chamber would not be burdened by a request to alter them as you see fit.” She’s put up with him for so long now, or he her and he gave her a real smile this time. His ashen head then finds the blood bay of another who has unwaveringly served. “Nymphetamine, you have earned Governor of the Diplomatic caste. Empathy is yours should you wish it. Let it be known that you are no traitor of the Chamber, you never really were I suspect.”
Next on the agenda was the matter of ranks within the castes. “I’m afraid the recruit Arthas has abandoned post, and we will not begrudge him the apple of his affections. Each man chooses his path and Arthas has chosen his, let it rest at that.” He’d not banish Arthas for loving Dacia but he would not allow the man to simply come and go, nor hold rank within the Kingdom while he was so undesirably connected. “Wherever the bear hides, he will be promoted to Captain regardless of current points. Siberian is loyal and has served well, he will receive what is due to him with or without those numbers. Furthermore I open steals and Challenges to all Kingdoms, our allies are still Valley and Tundra- keep those friendly.” That should have gone without saying but just in case.
They might think he is done then, the long pause as he lets the news settle. They might wish his yard long talking would cease but he sucks in breath once more. “Oh, that’s right, best for last. If you’d so kindly join us Malis!” he calls, his voice rising as he beckoned her forward.
“Well, what can I say then,” he smiles, wide and full, “Long live my Queen.”
The crone is unfamiliar to him but she reeks of the rocky hills, smells deeply of the Chamber herself and so he nods his head in acknowledgement of her presence. Clytemnestra, the name weighs heavy on his tongue. Next to arrive is all too familiar, even as she sways, heavy with child into their meeting. Her sass is enough to curl the edges of his chalky lips but he does understand her predicament, “By all means Kimber, rain on my parade if you must.” Nymphetamine, hardly sparing a breath for a jape is soon to follow and he watches the conjurer closely. The man’s nostrils widened and his breathing came in deep drags, Killdare was not interested in their bickering and was glad when he pulled himself away from the water-color mare.
A chocolate female he does not recognize enters the gathering, mouthing openly and at this he simmers. Some would know best to hold their tongues but he remained otherwise placid at her harpings. And then something great happens, the dark figure bleeding from the mountains shadow and lit hauntingly by the flames.
Killdare’s eyes widened and his breath tugged heavy in his chest for a few beats before he settled. The General was not dead, not quite and if more appropriate the King might have eagerly went to the old man and proverbially smacked him on the back in comradery. The joy is a short lived one, he must harness his boyish gaiety and continue with the matter at hand. He straightens, leaving the broad grin the finds his chalky lips and motions for the war hardened ex-General to come forward, to take a place at his right. Anything could be soured though, the salty scent of brine finding his flexing nostrils. He’d smash the little purple bastard, right before the tree and all. It isn’t Kirin though, an unknown dark female carefully picking her way among them, a deep plum child tucked close to her side.
He knows it’s one of his nephews brood, a wayward mare that has perhaps sought refuge from the tyrannical lifestyle of a winged purple peacock. She speaks and solidifies his assumptions and he doesn’t bat an eye at her request. Any that stayed in that shit show was deserving of the half-life they experienced. This girl, she was smart as far as he was concerned. He could feel eyes from others still around them, those that did not creep forward from the shadows but felt more at home within their viel. A flash of green eyes in particular finds him and he looses a tendril of magma from his feet, twisting a thin ribbon river and sprouting rose blooms of molten earth.
She was there, even if she did not make herself known and he smirks to himself at the thought. My Malis.
“Warship is right, she wakes. She does not take kindly to threats or harassment of puppy dogs, can’t say I do either. Something else is stirring too, and I ask you all take precaution to be wary of the unknown. Of what might come.” He pauses, taking in each of them once more, his molten eyes tracking their movements before moving briefly on to the next. “First, Lupei and his lines have been henceforth banished from the Chamber. Dacia as well but I do not and can not request the same suffering of her children.” Her children, their children, he would not caste out his own sons in such a way- regardless of their Dam.
“Speaking of this old man. Warship, I’d be honored to have you at my side as Lord of the Chamber. I honor and encourage your counsel, you know her far better than I do.” In a manner of speaking Killdare was wet behind the ears compared to the immortal black best, the hardened once General, the man who had beat death time and time again.
The King doesn’t miss a beat with the rest of it, ticking of a list in his head that has spent some time simmering there. “Kimber, you’ll be the General of our army now. Well done. As such you have the choice to keep your wings or sport a pair of horns. If you do choose your wings I’m sure the Chamber would not be burdened by a request to alter them as you see fit.” She’s put up with him for so long now, or he her and he gave her a real smile this time. His ashen head then finds the blood bay of another who has unwaveringly served. “Nymphetamine, you have earned Governor of the Diplomatic caste. Empathy is yours should you wish it. Let it be known that you are no traitor of the Chamber, you never really were I suspect.”
Next on the agenda was the matter of ranks within the castes. “I’m afraid the recruit Arthas has abandoned post, and we will not begrudge him the apple of his affections. Each man chooses his path and Arthas has chosen his, let it rest at that.” He’d not banish Arthas for loving Dacia but he would not allow the man to simply come and go, nor hold rank within the Kingdom while he was so undesirably connected. “Wherever the bear hides, he will be promoted to Captain regardless of current points. Siberian is loyal and has served well, he will receive what is due to him with or without those numbers. Furthermore I open steals and Challenges to all Kingdoms, our allies are still Valley and Tundra- keep those friendly.” That should have gone without saying but just in case.
They might think he is done then, the long pause as he lets the news settle. They might wish his yard long talking would cease but he sucks in breath once more. “Oh, that’s right, best for last. If you’d so kindly join us Malis!” he calls, his voice rising as he beckoned her forward.
“Well, what can I say then,” he smiles, wide and full, “Long live my Queen.”
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
