Any

[Kavi]

Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?

While empathy may have been a rather appealing trait, it was not enough to motivate me. Governor I was for five good years, and though near the end I could not be accounted for, I am proud of my work. Had I not been present and loyal during Straia’s takeover, something tells me that the Chamber would not quite be what it is today. I am a small facet of it now, but back then, I was one of two people supporting the great queen we see now, commanding a vast herd of subjects.

Alas, as mighty as that vision may be, it is not one for me. I am growing old – salt sprinkles my sooty muzzle, though the rest of my coat still glimmers and shines. Ever since childhood I have known that I would not rule; Mother may have been a queen, but I am ever only a servant. And even when I am rewarded, it is within me to fail.

And yet, I have no regrets or shame.

As always, I spend my day languidly. The morning greets me warmly, and with a thought my body mimics the sunrise. The afternoon treats me with sweet grasses which no longer grow atop the re-growing pine trees, proof that nature will always trump magic. And as the stars crawl over the sky’s pelt, I find myself drawn into the light.

It’s been like this for days now.

I’m standing close to the tree, as close as I may without scalding my golden pelt. Well, naturally golden. While the flames cast dancing shadows, across my dusky pelt, silver wolves race. They are perfectly imagined, their teeth sharpened to a point, their eyes glinting in the light of the moon which floats calmly on the top left of my neck. Staring intently into the magic fire, a true wolf howls in the distance, and upon my coat, an illustrated one does, too.

KAVI

Kagerou x Rhaego

[Engelsfors]

even  a n g e l s  fall

As night slips to morning, dawn's light pours through the breaks in the pine, like fine wine pouring, filtering, onto the chamber floor. As always, I am a quiet fixture, as if painted into the landscape. Gold and cream, gilt and moonshine. the artist however had failed in depicting certain elements, the thoughtful lines that wore my face, a little older than what I was. After a while, I'm sure sleep deprivation, insomnia, catches up with us all.

I will never comprehend the magic in Beqanna. The way the heart beats beneath my hooves, the way the fire burns eternal against the tree, alive, like witch's fingers attentively seeing to the chamber. My sapphire eyes saw much in my time here, and I am sure, will continue to see much more. Yet the way the magic pulses, thrums throughout the world, I will never lose that intrigue.

The coldness of a promised winter is harsh, already. The wind toys and entangles, pulls and tears at my cream tresses. My thoughts do not hide (that mask I had worn for years, still lay crumbled within the confines of the pine forest, lost forever.) they are worn with much more pride than ever. The meeting with Straia, with the new and the old, it had brought new feelings to pang at my heart. To steal a child, it went against my newfound motherhood. And I am quite certain if the chamber went away kidnapping young children, there would be an awfully large amount of scorned women on our doorstep.

With my pensive stare, my thoughtful moments of silence, I did not notice Kavi; he blended in a way that the crows do the ravens. With ease. For quite some time, I simply stand and watch, he is as pensive as me, but then with added weight upon shoulders, that I easily brush off. The last time I looked as lost and as thoughtful as Kavi, tears had shone like glass against my golden face. And it had been the first, yet possibly not the last in which the pines had held my sorrow, my fears and my pain.

'Kavi.' I say, smooth, delicate as lace and dark as the shadows that spin against the light of the morning. It occurs to me, a fleeting thought, that I had lived within the Chamber for few years now and I had not seen or spoken much of the once Governor. And as the Chamber seemed much more vibrant with new life, perhaps it would be time to meet more of the old.

'Pensive mood. What weighs upon your mind, that hangs burden upon your shoulders?' black magic is woven, quietly, simply. A small smile I offer, breaking out of the darkness and into the fiery glimmers of the flame. I glow then, golden frame like sunrise and sunset. I follow his gaze into the fire, watching as the magic thrums, the fire glows with much more than simple flame. I roll a shoulder, rocking in place for a moment, settling into the moist earth. 'Does it show much?' I ask, gesturing with my salmon and ivory nose, to the flaming tree. I had seen spires of light, images burning, and yet much changes, much alters. Like the imprinting upon the steed's coat. I mean much and both, the flame and his ever-shifting colouring. 'Does much change?'

engelsfors

an advisor of the chamber

OOC: I worded. I worded =] it is bad though =[ Apologies.