[open] It's dark inside [any]

[Killdare]

± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±

A great sigh left him when it was done, and he stood for a moment catching his breath thereafter. His green eyes took in the surrounding sights, those still in battle and others who had finished it like himself. They had all seemed to pay their respective dues, the crimson stains against the sand and dirt evidence of such costs. The Chamber King had been bested and he did not need the decisions of the fae to tell him so. When it was finally time he counted them, tallying their number and making sure all were still living. While this was not a battle to the death, sometimes accidents occurred, sometimes tragedies took place but he was glad they had not done so this day. The glint of blue, a shock of reddish brown, the dark horned black, the Chamberlings still breathed and in the end that was all that had mattered to him. The King also took the time to account for the others, the allies, a grullo, a black, the winged bodies of Eight and Marijuana. There was also that odd roan who had pledged himself to the cause simply because he seemed to have some sort of infatuation with Warship. Strange fellow.

He took the loss with what pride he could, nodding his head to the cat-like King of the Falls and taking his leave. Killdare was exhausted to say the least, bloody and sore in places he had not been for some time. He struggled as he walked, sides heaving and jaw clenched tight as blood spattered the ground in his wake. It took him hours to return home, to cross the Chamber borders, body shaking and he almost swayed as he entered. His right ear was all but gone, numb now from pain but he knew it was barely there- he could feel the blood dripping down his jaw.

There are few things he wanted upon his return, the children for one, and Malis. His Malis. He wanted her to know he was okay and he in turn wanted to know she was just as fine. Part of him didn't though, part of the man that was inside was hurt, was embarrassed to have been caught up in such a mess. For what though? He had earned nothing as result and at this point he wasn't even sure that keeping his word to others was end all be all anymore. The bay stood in the shadows at the edges of the Kingdom, too weak now to even cloak himself in his all too familiar layer of rock and lava. It could wait, he could wait, now, now was time for rest.

A call left his lips, just the one, a simple announcing of his return and the return of the others no doubt. They had all followed so willingly, whether to prove their loyalty or just to dip their toes in the fun, still they had come and he could not be more grateful. If nothing else they Chamber had kept its word, had followed through with their alliances and could not be discounted for that.

As he waited he began to feel cold, unusually so, and for a moment he tried to weakly draw the heat to himself. He couldn’t. He clawed at the power, grabbed at it mentally in a feeble and desperate manner. Nothing came, nothing would come. Again and again he reached for his gift only to be answered with silence, with stillness and cold.

KILLDARE

King of the Chamber

I don't think my gradient is working, bleh, I'll fix when I get home

[Malis]

"we pull apart the darkness while we can"

At some point in the battle, the magic had broken. Maybe it had been when he asked her to kill herself, kill the echo of the girl she used to be. Maybe it was when her body shifted and grew, when she had tasted the pure power of the imperious emerald green dragon. Maybe, maybe, it was when he pushed too hard. He should have known better than to force her to kill her chamber king, real or otherwise. But when he had come to collect his little pet, when he touched her neck and turned to lead her away, she did not follow. The magic had ebbed from the broken halter that hung from a burned, blue face, and his command fell on ears made of stone.

“No.” She told him in a quiet voice, a hollow voice, the kind of smoldering whisper reserved for speaking of ghosts and remembering nightmares.

He tried another command, fascinated.

“No.” She echoed again, those raw emerald eyes cutting holes through his thin face. She might have carved him if she could, carved him like he had, her.

She thought she saw a flash in his eyes, an instant where there was something besides the cruelty in his smile. But he commanded her one more time, one more time, if only to hear her say it again.

“I am finished.”

She blinked once, twice, and when she opened her eyes again it was to an expression of bored disinterest stretched across a pale, thin face.  “You are no good to me if you stay now, Malis.” Grumbles said, and, lifting a pair of hands she had come to know well, he unleashed a swell of new magic to shoo her away.

It felt a little like suffocating, drowning, like being held in a dark she knew intimately. But it only lasted a moment, not like the lifetime she had spent alone in his dark tomb, and when she opened her eyes again it was to forests of the Chamber. It was disorienting to have traded one world for another in the span of a heartbeat, and even more disorienting to stumble forward and find her barrel more swollen with child than it had ever been before. For a long moment she paused, just a smudge of aching blue tucked away into the deepest shadows of the night where even the cold silver starlight couldn’t reach her. She might have stood there for hours, days, entire lifetimes, just waiting to be sure that this was real. How, how could this be real. But she remembers his words, the finality of his tone as he shooed her away with his magic.

Tension knots and unknots in her chest and she finds that she cannot remain still any longer. She has new ghosts, new nightmares, new impossibilities and already they slither inside to fill the dark places in her chest, to fill the cracks in her soul. She cannot think about what she has done, what he made her do, not until she is sure. She pushes forward through a forest, a kingdom, that is far more silent than she is used to and she can feel rising doubt like cold hands wrapped around her throat. The Chamber is empty, her warriors all gone. Her warriors, and her King. It is his absence that begins to unravel the blue mare, his absence that frays at her quiet until she is stumbling wild and graceless through the trees.

But a voice tangles in the branches, caught like a leaf in the wind, and she knows it immediately. In an instant she is ruined, torn. There is nothing more that she wants than to trace his call back to him, to disappear into the curve of his dark body and try to understand why she had been taken again, to understand whose children stretched and shifted within her bulging belly. They had to be his, only his. But she knows better now than to believe that the fairy is a figment of her nightmares, knows better than to believe that impossible things might be anything less than real. But even as she gives in and disappears into the sound of his voice, she remembers the dragon. She remembers the taste of his blood on her tongue, the wet sound his body made when she tore it apart.

She remembers, and she fissures.

But even in her ruin she is selfish, still greedy, and when the shape of the tall bay stallion appears between the trees ahead of her and she can see the smears of blood across his skin and the puckering of pink wounds, she forgets that she needs to protect him from herself. Instead she goes to him, slow with the size of her belly until she is close enough to press her mouth to his shoulder, until she is close enough to trace his wounds with quiet lips. Worry finds confusion in the pit of her stomach and they fuse together until she urgently, possessively, has had a chance to make sure none of the wounds buried in his flesh will kill him. Only then does she still beside him, pressing her nose to his neck and oh how she burns with her shame. “Killdare?” She whispers in a voice too ragged to love, a voice so brittle it barely sounds like her. But it matches the burns across her face, the ones left behind when the magic failed in the halter, when she finally, finally, stopped being a pawn. “What happened?” Was it me, she wonders, did the magic find you. And she knows that if she had any strength at all she would untangle herself from him, she would let him be, allow him some happiness. But she is weak and she is selfish, and so she touches her lips to the damp blood on his neck and she is certain that this, this is real.

MALIS

makai x oksana

texture © hexe78

[Nymphetamine]

Nymphetamine

The battle was done, wounds had been given and judgement was up to the fae. The crisp breezes of the plains were laced with metallic tones as the air picked up the smallest of particles from the blood that dripped from the ones who gathers in battle. Nymphetamine himself had his fair share of wounds, deep gashes along his neck from the shadow wolf’s sharpened canines, the blood from which ran down his injured left shoulder and foreleg. The deep bruising within his right stifle made his stride short and jaunted. Others had finished before him, and he made him way to stand with the others as all waited for the end of battles, or to go to the rescue if need be. It was odd how organized and orderly for the wild equines to fight one on one, but that was a discussion for another time. But for the blood bay he did not linger, it was not the ory air, or sore body that made him leave before all his kinsmen were finished. It was his empathy. The blood bay was tired and mentally did not have the strength to hold up his mental block against the emotions that ran rampant through the plains. Pain, anger, disappointment, regret...whatever emotions the others felt most strongly at any given moment Nymphetamine knew. The constant onslaught of varied emotions was too much on top of his physical injuries and own personal emotions on the experience.

Nymphetamine left, alone and weak to find solitude within a private corner of Chamber’s forest. He made sure to catch the eye of Killdare prior as so his king would know he was accounted for. But then he made the long painful journey home, anxious for the seclusion he so desperately wanted.The raid had brought to light more than just his rusty fighting skills, but the surge of emotion he felt when he spotted Kimber. The blue mare was like a cold he couldn’t shake. No matter how he tried there was no way he could shake the hold she had on him. Not to mention the reemergence of Warship and what that meant for his chances with the blue jay mare. He crossed the lands without much care to what surrounded him, the trek back to Chamber instinctual and thoughtless. His mind was wrapped up in the self-dialog of his inability to be the master of his own heart. The self-battery and questioning continued until he finally crossed the border of Chamber. The ashy-pine air was a welcome comfort as Nymphetamine slowly made his way through the pine forest to the ever-burning tree that had been his office ever since the war. 

The tree was magnificent like always, and he had only just cast his steel eyes upon it when everything changed, a voice from above, below, everywhere yet from nowhere at the same time spoke in an all commanding tone. Everything froze as the voice spoke of the war, the raid, Beqanna’s inhabitants being greedy and not respecting the land that which given them their life and for some their powers.  Nymphetamine felt guilt bubble within him, and that of any inhabitant nearby as the powers that be rained down their disappointment. When their words faded and the world started turning again, the Governor felt the terror, sadness, anger, confusion of those around him and then if rescinded. Slowly “voices” that were the emotions around him went dark, and it honestly was like a breath of fresh air-- he had never fully adjusted to the ability.  But his attention then turned to the tree, “his” tree. It was his job to guard it, it was his job to keep its sanctity.  The great tree no longer burned, it stood, plain and unprotected by the embers of heat and light. Already the ash from the once burning fire had lifted from the air, soon it would be no more. Panic rose through his chest, and up his throat, at the same time his stomach sank. What had he done? Had it been him, had he disrespected the powers above by fighting when he was head of the peace cast? What would Killdare think?   

Part of him wanted to just curl up and rest- forget the world and let the land heal as he must. But the part of him that felt duty and loyalty to Chamber knew he must find his king and check base, and inform him. Sentries would be needed to protect the Tree, and guard schedules would have to be altered, the student’s training would have to be accelerated. The tasks created by the warning were endless. Nymphetamine’s mind reeled as the list grew longer by the second; he must find Killdare. Muscles strained at the forced sudden change in position. His legs throbbed at the pace, but the bay drove on backtracking the path towards the boundary. He might regret it later, this race to Killdare, but the Governor knew of no other option.  About halfway here, he heard his king’s call and altered his course just slightly to arrive directly where the magma king was.

Upon arrival, he heard Mallis, his queen before he saw either of them, the worry in her voice evident. Last time Nymphetamine interrupted his King with a love interest the magma king had been less than pleased. So the thought of waiting, or turning around to find him later flashed across his mind as he slowed before the two came into view; there was no time though, no ability to let the matter slide. He had to interrupt and deal with his royal grumpy-butt later. He cleared his throat in an announcement of his presence, prior to physically entering their space. His eyes widened at the sight of killdare, ear missing, and blood smeared across him much worse than he believed his own condition to be. The shock of seeing his king in such poor repair was troubling but not so much as the tree, and the security of his kingdom.  Nymphetamine stopped a few feet away before the words fell from his mouth in a rushed jumble of sounds. ”Forgive the intrusion, but Killdare you must come at once! My empathy is gone, and the tree…” Bloodshot eyes looked from Mallis to Killdare wide with the fear and concern of one who had undetermined guilt. His words grew more panicked as he neared the pinnacle of the announcement, ”It no longer burns!” He had no clue if Killdare had heard the warning or felt a lessening of power. But he knew this warning from the fae would have great implications on Chamber and he worried for her safety.

Like a thorn to the Holy Ones

[Killdare]

± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±

He had not witnessed their breaking, either of them but he might as well have. The tides had turned without his knowing though he should have expected it, should have seen the worst coming. And was it, the worst, truly? It could probably get far worse before it got better and that was the problem, they should all harden themselves for its coming. For the few moments he stands alone he reflects on the recent fight, not knowing that he had earned anything but instead lost what he had thus far gained. Bits of it, pieces but one needed all the pieces to proceed with the grand puzzle of things. Maybe he only thought he did, time would tell, soon enough they would all know one way or another their own true worth in the world. They would have to stand on their own feet from now on, and they best start making the best of it- that’s all that was left to do at this point.

He waits for them, knowing they would come, some of them and of course she would be there. She would and she is, leaking from the shadows and stepping into the dim light of the forest. The line of her swollen belly finds him first and he can only muster a small smile, though it brightens his otherwise soured face and gives light to the shadows that hang against his cheeks. Smiles don’t fix bullet holes though, and his wounds still cry red tears against his earthy skin. Never did he expect her to shy away from such afflictions, from blood or gore but it still surprises him when she leans in- presses herself into his shoulder. Many females would not, could not stomach the sight of battle and savagery, but she was savage in her own ways and he sighed in relief. She was good, too good for him at times he was sure, but he kept her anyhow, unable to bear the loss and too greedy to turn away from the careful strength of their love. Somehow two broken things made one whole thing, even if they both missed a few pieces here and there, were at a loss for all the corners but it didn’t matter.

If he could only ever keep an unfinished piece of her he would take it and be grateful. It was worth more than any finished product, any title or power or gift. "We've battled with the Deserts and their allies, and we've, I've lost more than parts of my dignity. There's no more Magic in me Malis, the heat of the earth. It's gone." Another sigh to end the sentence, face buried into her because the familiarity of that which had not been snatched from him was welcome.

The sigh subsides into the dark midnight of her skin, releasing his worries and weariness before another comes. Just the one so far, Nymphetamine, a loyal and consistent presence. The bay King turns his head, baring the mutilated flesh for all to see and looks on the blood bay with tired eyes. The man is welcome of course, even in this closeness, and Killdare would not shoo him away after he had spent himself for their Kingdom. After he had spent himself for naught and if anything Killdare should ask his forgiveness. He turns to say the words, admit his wrong doings but the sudden uneasy excitement floods him from the Chamber’s Governor. Something was not right and the hurried words to follow only fulfilled that thought as truth. Not only had he forfeited his gift, the thing that would help him, keep their world safe but he had forfeited Nymph’s as well. And the others, what of them?

The words only continue with their downward spiral as they leave the Necromancer, and he knows without asking the gifts have all left them. The tree, their tree, the Chamber’s tree was lost to them. A fire that was to be always, to be unending, had been snuffed, claimed and taken away by those with ethereal Magics. He could live without the magma, he could get by without his air force, without the assistance of empathy and invisibility. This though, this was unsettling and it put them all in an exposed position. “We will come and see, this is not good, if we have lost the tree then I fear we still have much to lose.” It was then that he turned his head once more to Malis, worry taking the crows feet at the edges of his eyes before he could hide the emotion. They were in for trouble if they were not careful, something told him deep down that they were not as safe as they once were.

KILLDARE

King of the Chamber