"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Chamber was quiet again, the ash and debris from the burning, freezing, exploding, growing, and vanishing trees was finally settled on the ground leaving everything a wash of gray. Nymphetamine had (once again) found himself in a drunken stupor. He always thought it was this haze that came over him when he lost himself in the draw of power, of succession, or ruling however with more time passing and with whispers of leadership changes the necromancer didn't feel like he would be rising to power anytime soon....so what was this haze that had him stumbling through the chamber? Maybe it wasn't the power, maybe he just ate a bad plant, as there are plenty of oddities in this place. Or maybe it was some reaction to the slightly smokey air that circulated out away from the ever-burning tree that occasionally stung his lungs. But most likely it was a self-coping mechanism due to the whole Petya thing. He hadn't asked for that child, not that he wasn't glad to meet any of his children. But it was something Harlet wanted. She, had propositioned him. She. She. She.
Stumbling, as Nymph forgot to pick up his hooves, he chuckled as if it were funny, but the reality was he was laughing at his situation. He had tried to do right. He hadn't come to Chamber because he thought it would fit him originally. It was all a trickery at first- infiltrate, gather, then double cross. But he found he liked Chamber better, that in the end chamber had his back. Where had Gates and Mast been when he needed them? More hiccupping giggles fell from him as he pulled himself away from narrowly missing a tree. (What. A. Mess.) So now he finds that as he continued being a generally good guy, especially for a Chamberling, he had been dropped a filly, after the mother who wanted her, who started that whole thing left. Well, he didn't know what to do, and after spending time with her, he needed to unwind..... and now he is in the state he is.
The stallion was not sure when it started or how long it would continue the zig-zag stumbling through the forest. But for now, he fumbled and bumbled and giggled like a a stoned off his ass fool...or wait... no, a drunk fool.
03-20-2016, 06:06 PM (This post was last modified: 03-20-2016, 06:07 PM by Siberian.)
Siberian is watching. He's watching, and frankly he isn't sure *what* it is that he is watching. As he follows along behind Nymph at a safe distance, he's worried that somehow one of the magicians who'd fought against the Chamber had done something to the other stallion. A befuddlement spell, perhaps, one designed to render the necromancer harmless in the event of a second attack. After all, you could hardly focus upon summoning the dead when you were consumed by the need to giggle incessantly and aimlessly wander. After a moment, he discards this theory. Had a magician done such, they would likely have targeted the entire kingdom for an easy takeover. The recently ended war had drawn many fighters on both sides. A proud grin graces his muzzle, equine at the moment, as he thought of how he had helped the rest of the Chamberlings to defend against the invaders. If they had expected a triumphant victory, they hadn't gotten it.
A stalemate was good enough to him, no foreign equine placed in power, no battle captives taken on either side. Killdare was king now, in the wake of the war's end and Straia's abdication. Life could get back to normal. But first, there was this to try and figure out. After several more minutes of observing the other stallion's strange behavior, the Budyonny decides that enough is enough. Aware of how Nymph is clearly not in his right mind (perhaps he'd eaten some bad clover!), he takes the precaution of shifting to his grizzly form before he tries a new tactic: moving up close to the blood bay instead of tailing him from a distance. He starts to speak, but quickly clamps his jaw shut before a Stupid Question can escape it. No, Nymph was clearly *not* alright. He tries again, this time having something better to say. "Nymphetamine, what's wrong? " Yes, that was the proper thing to ask. No verbal blunders here for him.
Look. the blood bay stallion had been stressed. It really was no secret that the necromancer had been busy two timing Chamber with Gates. I mean it really wasn't a secret anymore. Gates had decided to leave him high and dry like a high school the nerdy boy in school. Not to mention the war... where he killed another horse for the first time. Oh, right that was because the brute had attacked a kid that Kimber straight said could be his because she didn't know who the father was. So then after a few days rest the conjurer found out he had yet another daughter and that the mother had up and left her. That had been a doozy, and he had yet to know for sure what then Lorde, now King would do to his two-timing-super-secret-double-agent-spy ass for his indiscretions.
So of course, the reddish toned bay had every reason to not care if he zigged and giggled. Justified was the word that came to his head after the last fit of hiccupping giggles left his droopy jaw. He knew that he had allowed this to be so much more grandiose than necessary, but again- a little mental break... he had more than deserved. Somewhere outside of his conscious haze, he knew there was another. One that he innately trusted. He squinted and pulled his weeble-wobble (but they don't fall down) body to a halt, a graceful sight for sure. "Hey...I know you...are you walking this path too?" Nymphetamine probably didn't answer his question, but who knew if the clarity he thought his words possessed made it passed his lips instead of a slurred jumbled mess.
The bay moved on again, still in his hazy daze of stress induced stupor. It was as if he had no direction, or, at least, it looked like it was a thoughtless saunter that moved the lanky beast through the pines. Again the voice, more questions, he wondered why everyone had questions. His mood flipped like a politician's views after the primaries and he pinned his ears at the source of the question. "Look, bear. I'm fine, what's with the questions? I'm so tired of questions." His eyes brightened when the connection was made. Bear...familiar...he knew this question practitioner. "Siberian?!?! Why do you follow me.... as a bear? I'm fine.
The path continued until the clearing was upon them and the ever burning tree was off to the side. The sight of their recent wartime meeting and the site of the necromancer learned he had kids for the first time. Ok, where he learned that he "might" have kids. The ground was still a little unsettled where Rapscallion now rested below the debris. The wreckage of the war was still obvious in front of them, or at least in the bay's opinion. The giggling, which had reduced since the bay had become aware that the bear was there, now stopped completely. He felt the sobering moment wash over him. and the haze diminished in his eyes. While he still felt aloof and lightheaded, the weight of the recent past pressed down on him and forced him to be aware once more. The moment, the mental break, was over. A deep sigh escaped him as he continued to look out to the pile where Rapscallion rested. His tone was clearer, but he sadder somehow. "She should have told me.
I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against, because he's all I ever knew of love...
The blue mare feels a little more empty now that the ash has fallen. There's not any sign of Warship, Straia and her raven's have flown the coop, Killdare is King, her children have gallivanted off - she writhes in anger with the Amazon's magician. Then there is a more prevalent worry, the necromancer who essentially murdered a man both in front of her and her (his? their?) children. It's such an intricate and confusing web they've all woven together, though not intentionally, it was likely Kimber's fault. The blue mare was not equipped with the emotional sense of what to do when children come, the responsible parties and what not. Her mother had dumped her for dead on the Chamber's doorsteps for Smolder to care for. How could a child raise a child? She doesn't. Kimber had no idea that she should make either man aware of the children, much less to have them expect to have anything to do with them. If pride weren't genetic she could say she is sorry, she could promise to make amends and make this seem all like a mishap but she won't.
She doesn't find anything wrong with her behavior.
She fed, taught and protected the twins until nearly two years of age. She let her warrior body turn more into a skeleton version of herself, luckily she was starting to fill back out but it wasn't easy by any means. It was perhaps even harder than she had anticipated, though she didn't really speak of love (she surely doesn't know what it means, to love) but she felt affection for Vessel and Vaughan and the hope to see them live and flourish. She is alone, truly, now without anyone to bother or poke at - her children have left, her star-crossed lovers dead or wanting her dead. "I'm a fuckin' mess," she grumbles to herself as she slowly weaves through the charred treeline. She smells something familiar amongst the rubble and cannot mistake the man in a bear form, who closely follows one who's she's shared moments with. Moments full of dripping sweat, uncontrollable anger, venomous words - lots of things. Today, she decides to hang loose (something she rarely does) and purposefully keep a few steps behind - she hasn't overheard anything but can tell that the blood bay isn't his normal self. A wave of concern washes over her and falls hitting her stomach loudly like a coke from the vending machine. Kerplunk. Surely he wasn't hurt, too? Well at least not on in the life threatening way but she had this unsettling feeling that something was amiss.
The shadows were much less involved, Kimber liked less involved these days.
Kimber
she's basically just eavesdropping from far away and making sure Nymph isn't in extreme danger...once you guys hash it out I'll let her jump in.
04-03-2016, 06:08 PM (This post was last modified: 04-03-2016, 09:57 PM by Siberian.)
Nymphetamine declares that he is fine, despite his crazy behavior. Siberian is doubtful, but after a moment shrugs his furry shoulders and shifts back to his horse form, brown fur darkening and shortening on its way back to being an equine coat. The Budyonny listens, head tilted, to the necromancer's unhappy venting, and isn't sure at first what the blood bay is talking about. Who, rather, since he mentions a "she". The young stallion is confused at first, but soon recalls how the other male had had an argument with the blue mare, Kimber, back during the war. When Rapscallion had come, a would-be kidnapper and harmer of children. He snorts at the memory of the Gates "envoy", still unsettled over what had happened to poor Vaughn. Siberian had learned all he needed to know about the Gates kingdom that day. The very fact that they had numbered among their ranks a horse capable of such acts spoke volumes to the bear-shifter. But, back to the matter at hand, trying to help Nymph sort his emotional state out.
Despite having zero experience at playing counselor, Siberian would give it his best shot. They were kingdom-mates after all; potentially even friends. The black stallion moves closer to the necromancer, pausing for a lengthy moment before touching his nose to Nymph's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The "she" that had been referred to, could only be Kimber, judging by how upset the blood bay had been to discover that one or both of her children were revealed to be his as well. Not being a father himself, Siberian couldn't hazard a guess how he would react to the news of children he'd never met before, can't judge Nymph's reaction by any yardstick of measurement. He can't blame him for reacting poorly though; a discovery like that would shock anyone at the best of times, never mind it happening in the middle of a literal war-zone. "Maybe she had planned to, but the war interrupted her chance to do so privately? ", he ventures uncertainly.
04-04-2016, 10:27 PM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2016, 11:25 PM by Nymphetamine.)
Around him, everything went on like normal. Around him, the birds flew overhead completely unaware of his turmoil. Around him, nothing really had felt right in some time. Siberian, the dear lad tried to comfort him, give reason and logic to the events of recent past, but there was no logic to it. "She had a year." His words were not mad, nor sad, nor happy. In fact, they were the blandest, vanilla, emotionless words he had ever spoken. Siberian was looking on a frozen figure. Nymphetamine's eyes were moving back and forth as they would when someone was deep in thought, he was obviously conscious and coherent. The outside world faded away, and every strand of thought, every vibration of his being went inward, worked at a thought he had to unravel.
The thought gleaned from the very depth of his mind, no his soul. It flickered, so it was just out of reach, but every fiber of his being told him to figure it out. Except the words to pinpoint its intent were not there, other than it involved Kimber. The blue mare's image flashed behind his eyes, and the mental image expanded out like a camera panning out to reveal the night he met her. The air was crisp, and heavily pine scented. She stood there, in that small clearing, completely unaware of the chain of events she was about to cause. The blood bay had acted a tad inebriated, overly bold, in an attempt to get information from her to take to Gates. She was alluring, she was complicated and she was different. Nymphetamine's goal turned from gathering information to trying to understand her. A goal he still felt he had yet to complete. She had played him like a fiddle, and he didn't know how much she was aware of it. The meeting was interrupted by Warship, and she had used him as he had used her moments before but the fascination hadn't ceased. There was something there, something beyond the games they both played on the surface. The necromancer walked away from that meeting, unable to shake the mare from his mind. He thought of her often; though at the time he was still with Keeva, the blue mare had managed to place herself under his skin. A curiosity he wanted to satiate, and itch he longed to scratch.
He didn't see her again until shortly after Keeva left, and they collided one night in the dense pine forest, both for different reasons, they came together. He had wanted a distraction from the numb, hollow mush where his strong independent heart had been before. She had her own reasoning, something to do with Warship, as his scent was all over her when she came to him that night. The smallest of smiles was visible on his face at the memory, that night had been... well, intense. But he had had moments with others, and none of them lingered in his mind as that one did. The thought flicked again, but the words to describe the nagging thought still escaped him.
The fact that their moment in the shadowy pine-forest had stuck with him meant something, right? So what else mattered to him about his interactions with Kimber that others didn't? Externally his brow furrowed at the revelation. Kimber, the stubborn, brilliant, yet infuriating mare meant something to him. One last moment made it clear. The kids. He had been with others, and he didn't care that he wasn't informed. He didn't care if the kids ever met him though he would gladly be a part of their lives if they wanted it. Kimber didn't tell him, and he about lost his mind with anger. The time with his family mattered, he viewed them as his family. The flickering thought increased in intensity as if he were on the brink of realizing it's full meaning. The words were still not there in to grasp it in its entirety, and his revelation seemed to end there.
The blue mare, who so long ago snuck under his skin and implanted herself there had grown on him. Her life had somehow become important to the sarcastic stallion. The bay's heart beat a little louder, a little harder, a little faster, as he thought about it. It was overwhelming to think that the infuriating blue soldier was important to him. It was more than he could handle, he didn't know if Killdare would even allow him to stay in Chamber. He couldn't handle actually caring about Kimber and then never being able to see her due to banishment (that is if Killdare actually banished him), so he stuffed the feeling back down, thought of it no longer. She could be important to him. That was fine, Killdare was important to him as his king... so were all his kingdom-mates, Kimber was a kingdom-mate...so, of course, she mattered to him.
He exhaled and realized he had been daydreaming, lost in thought for what felt like an eternity, but had more realistically been a few seconds. He looked at Siberian, and half smiled trying to hide the shock of his revelation from the bear stallion (and himself). "Mares, huh? They'll drive you crazy....you have the so-called 'pleasure' of having a lady drive you crazy yet? He eyed the stallion hoping he wouldn't press what had distracted him, he still didn't know exactly the extent of it himself so he definitely didn't want to have a discussion about it right now. Hell, he didn't even know how he felt about the truth coming to light within his own mind. What had he gotten himself into? He focused in on the other stallion to hear his reply, anything to distract himself from his own thoughts...and feelings.
04-05-2016, 12:02 AM (This post was last modified: 04-06-2016, 05:50 PM by Kimber.)
The blue mare isn't the easiest to understand - one minute partaking in social events and the next burying herself in the thicket for half a year. Her methodology made sense to her, she felt stir-crazy so she ventured out, she felt used up; she stayed in. Kimber's personality was attracted to both Warship and Nymph probably because of said things; while Warship was one she could not speak to for days and be fine with, when it came to the necromancer things were different. She always felt herself wanting more, needing more. There is no doubt that the dip dyed mare harbored feelings for the General, although as naive and short-lived as they were forced to be, it wasn't enough to make her full. Kimber had felt a thirst that she hadn't had quenched by the General, an insatiable need that wasn't being met. The majority of women have ideas of being someone's everything but our little blue mare had no such concoction to base her mixture off of. Certainly there were those who were less loved than her, she has children who she assumes love her - it's instinctual, but she had not been raised with love a focus. She had never expected to have any feelings or attachments to the necromancer, she saw him as a snake in the grass the first time she saw him and still she isn't sure if she was one playing the flute to charm him or if she had become the snake in the basket. If you were asking him, probably the latter - it's all her fault in his eyes and she's become so apathetic to it, she simply agrees.
She is the most ill-equipped woman to handle such fragile things.
The blue mare is drifting off herself as she's waited in the shadows as Siberian tries to soothe the bay into some sort of admission (or submission), when she first arrived the golden light had showered across the Chamber and she hadn't intended on staying this long but sometimes even the blue mare allows herself to get swept away in feeling. The sun is nearly set behind them and although it would be the perfect cloak for her black and dark blue coat, she knows that other duties lie ahead. She catches a little banter about mares, plural she thinks and immediately jumps to the worst of conclusions. She knows that it would be difficult if he was allowed to stay in the Chamber but if she let herself think further, it would be harder for him not to be. There are some people that you collide with, like atoms and you're changed into something completely different; she was forever changed the last time they were alone. That night made her a mother and ripped her from her last strong hold on childhood itself, he was a part of that and perhaps it's true that it really stays with you. If Kimber were thinking clearly she would rationalize it all, as she so frequently did, and carry on. She knows that she has to stay away, he may not talk to her or approach her but she is not an idiot.
She could recognize hurt, a skill acquired from becoming a mother.
A crow calls out and startles her from her thoughtful slumber and she decides to move on as best as she can, she is tired on both forefronts. The bear could contain the necromancer she is sure and although she wouldn't be far if she was truly needed it was not kind of her to watch and continue to keep herself locked away. The dip dyed mare makes no attempts to be silent as she moves on the outside of the tree line, the rising blood moon painting her skin a deeper blue. She wonders if she will be able to slip by the two without going noticed and an internal conflict begins. Should she speak up, should she run like hell? Another part of her wants to be noticed, she gets flustered and her anxiety over nothing at all causes her heart to race. Thu-thud, THU-THU-THUD she swallows it back down and decides the smallest of gestures would do just fine. "Siberian, Nymph, just doing my watch," she looks at the bear, her amber eyes filled with concern as it quickly fades to stone and forward, "call out if anything changes." Her sentiment was mostly in the event Nymph turned for the worse but it was hidden by a placid, apathetic tone of work. If a crazy Amazon banshee crossed the border or other creatures but she wasn't sure but she thought Siberian was smarter than the average bear and would pick up. Kimber had stayed the same in so many ways but have evolved into an entirely new being in others, life had a way of doing that to you.
Kimber
you can't love a cold-blooded woman
OOC: she's done replying, I wanted her to exit and not be just eavesdropping anymore. <3
Nymph sees right through his attempt to reason away Kimber's failure to be honest, but at least Siberian had tried to help the other stallion feel better about the situation. Digging a forehoof into the ground in thought, he tries to come up with something else to say. He lifts his ebony head up, irregular white star stark against dark forehead, as inspiration strikes. Sort of. "A year is still better than never, isn't it? At least she told you eventually instead of letting you go through the rest of your life, never knowing at all? " The Budyonny is saved from further verbal scramblings when the very topic of their discussion appears. Knowing that his friend was in this chaotic state because of her, he barely manages to keep from frowning at her, or even aiming some choice words Kimber's way. It would not help the situation at all. Her casual tone doesn't fool him; he very much doubts that the blue mare had randomly come across them on patrol.
Had she been following them? Perhaps she was concerned about the blood bay after all, even if she wouldn't admit it, and the thought causes Siberian's inner irritation to soften. Oh yes, if anything did change, he would definitely let her know. Or, maybe he wouldn't.....again, this was her fault, after all. Thankfully, the necromancer seems to be pulling himself together, despite a brief period of apparent daydreaming. He asks if the bear-shifter has a mare himself, and Siberian shakes his head in denial. He *had* made the acquaintance of a filly in the Cove, but he guesses that doesn't really count. He supposes it could even be considered a friendship. But the entire thing was a confusing situation. Bear meets, attempts to eat girl. Girl helps tame bear, ends up using bear as a combination heating blanket and pillow. After a brief pause, he spills that entire story to Nymph, wondering what he will think of it.
![[Image: nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/dsl_devin/nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif)
