and some by virtue fall; Straia

[Kushiel]

Kushiel had a restless mind. He didn’t like the sound of his own thoughts echoing around in his skull. It sounded ominous, like a sinister hollow thump. Normally, he would swear he had brains in there, but some days he wasn’t sure. They very easily could have melted away. This was why he liked the flames. They burned away all he was and left something simple. The funny jokes, the amusing quips, the easy smiles, they were all gone. What was left was heat, and desire, and an unbridled wildness that couldn’t exist in daily life. At least not where law and order existed as well.

Perhaps it was weak, but Kushiel loved that feeling.

Even when Straia stepped away Kushiel reveled in it. He always carried flame, but just enough to sparkle at the corners of his consciousness. This inferno raging across his body was something else entirely. The big stallion gritted his teeth and hissed in the pleasure of it. Not for the first time he felt ecstasy, and knew that it was not him, but the tongues of fire burrowing deep into his soul.

With a gut wrenching twist he let the fire go. With a profound sense of loss he watched the flame dribble down his legs and pool around his feet, scorching the dry summer grass. The stallion sighed and stomped them out with a hoof. He kept a little bit, but not enough to get that feeling again. Suddenly, he felt a little tired. Slowly, as if he moved through smoke, he turned his attention back to Straia. But he felt like dull, like charred metal rather than glinting, glittering, steel.

“And that day will be one for the record books.” The flirtation was gone from his tone, and instead replaced with a huskiness and real admiration that was harder to fake. He yawned, widely in a way that made him look less polished that he normally would have liked. His brain, for the moment was satiated. Like a puddle of soft, contended gray matter, or a happy petted cat. Without the constant fussing he normal entertained, Kushiel found himself more in the mood for serious conversation, or if not serious conversation, than for speaking his mind. Rather abruptly, he returned to their former topic of conversation.

“You know Straia, say what you will for diplomacy, but it’s dreadfully boring.” Kushiel, with his guard down, found himself rambling a little. “The Tundra, Gates, Falls, Deserts, it doesn’t even matter which because they’re all the same. If you burn one you may as well burn them all.” Maybe he just had fire on the brain, maybe he had taken leave of his senses, but suddenly that idea appealed to him very, very much. To light a fire and watch it rage. The big stallion smiled. He purposely left out the Amazons, Valley, and Dale, those three, while not particular satisfying, would probably take more than the meagerest of forces to topple.

“The Valley, while also criminally boring, would cooperate if we asked them to. They have to. Unless they raze someone else they’ll probably turn on each other.” And Kushiel was in a position to know this, he was there very, very recently. Beside, he knew a thing or two about Valley horses, he was born one, and knew that flame was very close to their hearts as well. Hell, he even knew just the woman to talk to, should they want a Valley member with a flair for the dramatic.

[Straia]

She has always been wild. It is the one thing that hasn’t changed about Straia. She may keep it tucked away in some regards – she has to, because she is Queen – but in others she wears it openly. Her beauty is a wild thing. Her mane and tail are long and tangled, mane hanging on either side of her neck haphazardly. She once wore the ash from the pine trees in streaks of armor, and now she simply wears the scratches from the branches that stroke her as she moves through the pine forests.

It is this very unkempt appearance that makes her beautiful. There’s a wildness there, something untamed and uncertain. It flickers in her eyes and whispers of its existence in the smell of pine and feathers that clings to her skin. Maybe she was mad indeed. In fact, she knows she is. It’s just well contained, and well presented, even if it looks as if she simply doesn’t care what she looks like. But of course that too is part of the beauty.

She likes this version of Kushiel as well, the one left behind when the flames die away. Not because of the admiration in his voice, or the huskiness that she will never admit to liking just a hair too much (he’s still not Weed, but she enjoys him, and she’s not necessarily the monogamous type). She simply likes seeing him as he is, all the pretense stripped away, left with a stallion ready to burn the world down.

Because that has always been her dream.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that. Gryffen may have a task for you, and it may involve burning some things. If you are interested, give him a shout. I’ll make sure you are well equipped, if the plan interests you.” She leaves it at that, figuring their conversation may be drawing to a close anyway. She’s planted the seed, but she’ll leave Gryffen to the execution. Warship had joined that party, and she knows that tactics aren’t her strong suit. They just needed her permission, which she has given.

Though mention of the Valley interests her far more. “And who would I talk to? I’ve been uncertain what to do there. Their new king seems, well, a bit nice. But perhaps I am wrong.” Because she would like to know they still have an ally in the destruction of Beqanna. She’s no fool, the Chamber can only stand alone for so long. And perhaps, just perhaps, Kushiel can give her exactly what she needs.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber

image © Squirt

[Kushiel]

Kushiel smirked, a lazy, satisfied smile that said a lot about the state of his mind. He was satiated, like he almost never was. He always wanted, more out of life, always demanded more. More fire, more fun, more tricks, more emotion. Now, in a rare moment, the inferno had burned that away, and the stallion felt an overwhelming sensation. If he didn’t know better, he would almost say it was peace. He nearly laughed at himself. He had thought his flames were a vice. He was thought they were a drug, but maybe not? He put it aside, he would have to consider it later.

“Then I will find Gryffen. I’d be loathe to miss anything that his mind can conjure.” Again, Kushiel smirked. He was quite certain Gryffen was half mad, but Kushiel didn’t hold it against him. There were worst things to be than half mad. There were plenty who thought he, himself, was completely mad. Kushiel thought he knew better. Some days he wasn’t sure.

Kushiel looked at her for a long moment when she asked her next question. It wasn’t that he was reluctant to give her the answer, no, that wasn’t it. It was just that he felt like he was opening a door, and to what he couldn’t be sure.

“Gallows.” He said at last, for really it was the only thing he could say, there was none other that he would suggest.

“You should talk to Gallows, but when you do, keep an eye to your thoughts. She has a way of knowing things without being told.” He knew that giving away that little secret of his mother’s would probably earn him a vicious tongue lashing, but still, Kushiel had some loyalty and wouldn’t knowingly let his queen walk into a trap he had arranged. Kushiel considered their meeting for a moment, and a bright smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“She’s a little like you in that way. I’m sure you two will have much to talk about.” That Kushiel did not doubt it. His mother was a schemer, and he knew that, at the very least, she’d be interested in entertaining Straia’s plans.