a thousand teeth and yours among them; straia

[weed]

she is the lamb; he is the slaughter

Politics did not hold much appeal to Weed. He simply did not appreciate the complexities of them; they were slow-moving and sluggish and too often wrapped with the false smiles of politicians. It had been one of the many reasons that he had ultimately abandoned the Valley although he would be a fool to say that the kingdom did not continue to call to him in its own way. He had led the Peace Caste and had grown weary of diplomatic trips where he could not say what was on his mind; he had grown weary of having to constantly smile politely and say what was expected of him to keep the peace between lands.

So, no, he did no like politics overly much. He preferred chaos. He preferred destruction.
If he was being honest, he preferred Straia—although that goes unsaid.

“So turn them against one another. I began rumors there, but the sister I told does not seem to have done much with them—she may have, as Amazons seem to do, disappeared.” His grin widens slightly, and he shrugs his shoulders. “I can always return to finish the job, or we can simply pick a more obvious way to begin the fissure.” He pauses, thinking, mulling over their options. “Do the Tundra and Amazons still exchange children? Perhaps we can…intervene. Take their colts and ensure no fillies are sent in return. I would be happy to relay the message that the exchange is no longer acceptable to the brotherhood.”

Another pause, “Or perhaps we simply send our version of Tundra men to the Amazons and take some of the children by force.” He shrugs his elegant shoulders. “Regardless of what we do, we will be able to break the trust between them, and distrust is the beginning of something very beautiful to me.”

WEED

© oscar keys

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

The thing about her style of diplomacy is that she often does say just exactly what she means. Particularly when they come to her. Mincing words is a waste of time, and see, she doesn’t like to waste time. The thing about ruling though is that she cannot simply make everyone do what she wants. She has to move them into place, has to give them reasons to do what she wants. And sadly, she cannot simply destroy the world with abandon. It must be planned, and all of it takes far too much time.

She’d rather just rule the world with Weed, but that, sadly, was not an option. She cannot really imagine the other horses of Beqanna falling beneath their rule quiet so willingly. Sometimes though, she dreams of the ways they might make it happen anyway.

“The Tundra proposed and exchange with the Jungle, but the Jungle is less willing to oblige that request. Maybe all the Tundra needs is for someone to give them a reason to do anything at all. They tend to be terribly nice there though.” She pauses for a moment, mulling the ideas around in her head some more.

“Neither kingdom really has any children to steal, though I would not be adverse to sending a few fake Amazonian’s to the Tundra to steal children, just to add some insult to injury. Granted Prague is back, so she’ll figure it out.” Damn magicians.

”Perhaps Brynmor can be of some use. Gryffen planted him in the Tundra a while back. I’m not sure how loyal he will be to us with Gryffen gone, but we could test those waters. As for a useful Amazonian, should you need one, Rhy will take messages to the Khaleesi She’s terribly loyal.” Yes, she would sell her cousin out some, and Rhy would never suspect, because she’d never know it was the Chamber.

She almost feels bad about it. Almost.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber

[weed]

she is the lamb; he is the slaughter

Once, Weed hungered to rule the world. It had been marrow-deep and all-consuming. He had molded his life around that desire—bleeding and sweating to see it fulfilled. But time had made Weed a wiser stallion and he no longer hungered to rule the world; now, he hungered to bring it down. There was true power in destruction, a power that could not be truly wielded when you were trying to lead the world by the nose. So he did not envy Straia her position within the Chamber (although he respected her, which he could not say for many). Instead, he simply remained pleased that she gave him the leeway to do as he wished.

“If she finds out, perhaps it will be too late,” he shrugs. Magicians had their uses, but for the most part, they were simply barriers to him. Magic undermined the good old fashioned way of tricking people, and he was tired of having to work around it. “Would you like for me to return to either kingdom? I can perhaps root out Brynmor to get a feel for his allegiance these days.” His dark eyes narrow as he considers her, “Or I can stay here to help you get ready for the war. Simply point me in a direction.”

He did not often give permission to someone to provide him with orders, but he trusted her judgment, and he also knew that she had cards in play that she had not—and most likely would not—tell him about. Weed could be a loose cannon if that is what she preferred, but he had a feeling he would be more useful if he was acting in tandem with her plans, even those plans that he was not privy to.

WEED

© oscar keys

ack. sorry. my weed muse has been super temperamental.

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

It is perhaps the greatest gift he can give her, asking what she wants him to do. She knows, of course, that they each respect each other in ways they do not respect many (if any) others, and are drawn to each other in a way that at least she is not drawn to anyone. But Weed is still his own agent. Always will be. She knows that.

But for a very brief moment, they are truly working together. Her smile is small and genuine, just the curve of the edges of her mouth. It’s doesn’t last long, before she slips back into the wicked grin of hers instead. “See what you can do to get the Tundra on our side. Maybe all Hurricane needs is some persuasion. “ Maybe the men of the Tundra would finally realize that being upstanding citizens really wasn’t working out for their kingdom. A change of pace, however, always brings someone out of the woodwork.

Or maybe not, and maybe Weed would have to be clever and cunning and play a few more games. But she trusted him to take the right course, to give it his all. The Tundra men simply might decide to stayed holed up in their icy prison, but it was worth a shot anyway. “When we get closer to war, I’ll make sure you know.” She gives him another quick nip on the neck before, finally, slipping away from his side. With a quick smile, she turns to weave her way further into the Chamber.

This time, she didn’t need to tell him to come back. She simply believed he would.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber