It was her first day, and technically she shouldn't have been joining. In actuality she was still new here, and her opinion wasn't really asked for... Yet. Though, it would be more rude to just stand off to the side while a kingdom meeting was held. And, after all, Kindling was officially apart of the kingdom.
Ten years later, three children later, two deceased husbands (boyfriends?) later.. She is here. The sweet smell of pine floats into her nostrils, the distant smell of familiar servants erupt in her memory. Rodrik was not longer here, but his sweet little Straia was.
Oh, how they had been such good friends.
The grey mare waivers inbetween trees, along the pathway and down the slowly descending hill to the heart of her first kingdom. No, her crown had never been here, it had been in the Valley. But for what? Osric. Why? For the sake of merging kingdoms.
What had the end result been? The Chamber, and the Valley at war. The fallen king, and the forgotten queen.
She reaches the bottom of the slope. The watering grounds, a semi-thick creek leading to an over flooding pool of water to her right. A thick brush of trees to her left, most likely leading to what she would assume is their leader.
She wonders who stepped up to the throne when Rodrik stepped down.
And it was only so long ago when..
She only recognized Osric, but that would change with time. There were few here, although Kindling had gotten the impression horses were slim picking here. Especially mares. She stared as the six stallions all gathered in discussion. Osric spoke first, but Kindling had feeling that the one they called Rodrik was heavily looked upon. She listened to them speak, hearing kingdoms names she had never heard of.
It was interesting to ask their opinions, and the others obviously had some ideas. But Kindling only knew of the Jungle, and the Tundra. Both of which had strong armies. Kindling had only heard through the grapevine of the ferocity of the women. And a little bit of female influence wouldn't do too bad for the kingdom. And, they were one of the few others vicious enough to fight, but compassionate enough to be loyal. Though, with Osric calling Jungle with Rodrik, Kindling had the impression she would be sent to the Tundra. Which wouldn't be a bad thing, she had always been better with male socializing rather than female.
"I could visit the Tundra. " Her voice contrasted against the male baritone voices ringing in the air. Her voice was more like a soft harp.
Her voice is no longer soft, it is rugged and firm. Her body is strong, scars forming all along her body. Her most prominent the scar of her rape, a thank you to Rodrik, sliding along her belly. Elite had her fun that day, saved her from birthing to a monster. Hallelujah.
And yet no one even knew that beautiful story.
And so she waits, impatiently mind you, hoping that someone will come to see what the familiar smell of Kindling is doing lurking within their home. Everyone thought she was dead.
She thought she had died too.
Ten years later, three children later, two deceased husbands (boyfriends?) later.. She is here. The sweet smell of pine floats into her nostrils, the distant smell of familiar servants erupt in her memory. Rodrik was not longer here, but his sweet little Straia was.
Oh, how they had been such good friends.
The grey mare waivers inbetween trees, along the pathway and down the slowly descending hill to the heart of her first kingdom. No, her crown had never been here, it had been in the Valley. But for what? Osric. Why? For the sake of merging kingdoms.
What had the end result been? The Chamber, and the Valley at war. The fallen king, and the forgotten queen.
She reaches the bottom of the slope. The watering grounds, a semi-thick creek leading to an over flooding pool of water to her right. A thick brush of trees to her left, most likely leading to what she would assume is their leader.
She wonders who stepped up to the throne when Rodrik stepped down.
And it was only so long ago when..
She only recognized Osric, but that would change with time. There were few here, although Kindling had gotten the impression horses were slim picking here. Especially mares. She stared as the six stallions all gathered in discussion. Osric spoke first, but Kindling had feeling that the one they called Rodrik was heavily looked upon. She listened to them speak, hearing kingdoms names she had never heard of.
It was interesting to ask their opinions, and the others obviously had some ideas. But Kindling only knew of the Jungle, and the Tundra. Both of which had strong armies. Kindling had only heard through the grapevine of the ferocity of the women. And a little bit of female influence wouldn't do too bad for the kingdom. And, they were one of the few others vicious enough to fight, but compassionate enough to be loyal. Though, with Osric calling Jungle with Rodrik, Kindling had the impression she would be sent to the Tundra. Which wouldn't be a bad thing, she had always been better with male socializing rather than female.
"I could visit the Tundra. " Her voice contrasted against the male baritone voices ringing in the air. Her voice was more like a soft harp.
Her voice is no longer soft, it is rugged and firm. Her body is strong, scars forming all along her body. Her most prominent the scar of her rape, a thank you to Rodrik, sliding along her belly. Elite had her fun that day, saved her from birthing to a monster. Hallelujah.
And yet no one even knew that beautiful story.
And so she waits, impatiently mind you, hoping that someone will come to see what the familiar smell of Kindling is doing lurking within their home. Everyone thought she was dead.
She thought she had died too.
When she awoke, the world was on fire.
Italics are from her very first post in the chamber ☺ Just so no one gets confused.
![[Image: HFqRV2Q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HFqRV2Q.png)
