Straia already had Erebor when Shaytan joined the Chamber, and ever since then she’s been obsessively infatuated with the tobiano Queen. Luckily for Shay, Straia indulges her to a point, and never paraded her blossoming relationship with Weed in the spotted mare’s face. But there will probably come a time when Straia will have another child, and Shaytan will have to face the fact that Straia loves someone else more. But until then, she can live in a little fantasy where the two of them are secret lesbian loves and every other favor she bestows on others is purely due to Chamber politics.

Shaytan is Straia’s favorite until proven otherwise.
Nevermind that Gryffen. He is useful. But Shaytan is whom Straia secretly adores.

Did she not plead for human-Shay to save her, whilst Sayaa peeled her lovely, beautiful coat from her own muscles? She didn’t ask for Gryffen or Weed or Kushiel. No, she called out to Shay. But Shay couldn’t save her, even after beating herself bloody on the windowpane - and that vision has stayed with her. It is what drives her to the shadows, skirting all light until the sun goes away. It is some sort of stress that sends her tongue salivating over everything that takes a step into her domain. Bigger creatures - horses, turkeys, deer - she obviously can’t kill. Squirrels are difficult, too, they’re already super skittery. But Shay knows how to kill the bunnies. Oh yes, Shay loves to kill those bunnies.

She even saw a moose once. It took her back to her first days after the nightmare, and the crazy mare she met. Ha! How anyone could kill a moose is beyond her. The lying, stupid, girl.

Bunny! She freezes, muscles locking into place as the furry little critter comes into view. And then, with the most discipline that Shaytan has ever demonstrated, she slowly, deliberately moves towards it. Sometime she wins and sometimes she loses - but this happens to be a winning day, and this wascally wabbit will join its brethren in a discarded pile half a mile off - a gift for the foxes or coyotes, or maybe just the vultures. He catches her after she’s drained the blood and disposed of the carcass, reeking of sweat and man and something else (the thing that drives him like that).

He is all stallion; thus, Shay’s initial reaction is to recoil. But he persists, drawing her attention to her blood-stained mouth and hot, metallic breath. She laughs, dismissing his question with a single word. “Rabbit,” and while she isn’t always the type to give her name, she does. Because she can, and because why not? “Shaytan. Who are you? Why run… like that?”

What she means is - why run as if you want to kill yourself?

Shaytan

His voice is on edge - it reminds her of the nightmare so she pins her ears back for a hot second, and shakes her head to dislodge the thoughts. Shay’s found it’s better not to dwell on it. Push it away, like it never happened; as if she never saw Straia skinned alive, and she was never ever ever ever ever changed into a little white rabbit. The stallion has desperation and mania on his breath and in his eyes. She should be frightened. She dislikes the closeness, but the rest of the red flags aren’t popping up the way they normally do. Pffffft. What is normal anyway?

But attention is attention, and given that no one else has any for her, she’ll settle for this weirdo (ha! the pot is calling the kettle black), who is oh-so-invested in her odd little tendencies. Her hobby? Yes, let’s call it her hobby. Her only hobby.

Shaytan snorts, because the answer is so very obvious. “Because I have to.” The spotted mare hadn’t been born with the inclination, but she must have some sort of obsessive personality, because there are a few things that have grown on her to the point where she can’t even think of living without them. She licks her lips, catching the tang of dried specks on her whiskers. “And I like the sound they make.” She chuckles deviously, a deranged sound in the back of her throat. If Makai couldn’t tell before, there is definitely something a little off with this one… a little off, indeed.

In a fit of inspiration (what idiot is not the occasional genius?) she presses back. Not in a sexual manner, obviously, but in a… see, i can play this game too, kind of way. “Want to see something cool, Makai? I’ve got a tree on fire, but doesn’t burn.” I mean it’s not her tree, it’s the Chamber’s. Which means that it is also hers. But not just hers.

Eh. Semantics.

Shaytan

She’s never encountered anyone who is repulsed by the Chamber; by her - yes. But by the Kingdom itself? All she’s known is respect and occasional fear. Unless they’re from the Gates, in which case Shaytan expects anger - not disgust and - whatever else he’s got going on. Self loathing? This is weird for Shaytan. And Shay has a hell of a lot of weirdness in her life already.

Shaytan does not ride an emotional rollercoaster like so many others do. She follows her wants, and when she doesn’t get what she wants, there is frustration. But other than that, her heart is tied to love only in the way of lust, and even that is a fickle creature. An ‘out of sight, occasionally out of mind’ creature, specifically. A bewildered expression crosses her face, and she takes a step back from the black stallion. “Yes…” she answers, trailing off in obvious confusion. Dude. Chill out.

”Ok… well…” she looks around, weighing her options. She could leave. Or he could leave. This didn’t really go the way she’d planned and without a clear path, Shaytan is about to flounder in shallow water. Social skills may not be Makai’s forte, but it sure as hell isn’t hers either - and she doesn’t have a philandering lover as an excuse. “Then what do you want to do?”

Shaytan