 Recently, Kushiel had been having an internal debate. It was rare for him, to not only think about his behavior, but to debate the best course of action…
He was starting to wonder if responsibility had made him boring.
He sighed, long and low, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Should he actually meet Straia? Granted, they had met, or at least he had said his name in her presence, and there was no need for her to say hers. That was pretty obvious. Kushiel was trying to figure out if that should be the extent of their interaction.
After all, he had a good thing going here. He liked the Chamber, and how nobody caused him too much grief.
If he met Straia, she might ask him to do something, or worse, he might say something truly horrendous and be exiled. Kushiel scowled. His mother would just love that. For one fleeting moment, Kushiel wondered if there were too many women in his life. That elicited an actual snort of laughter.
Don’t be ridiculous.
He was fine with women, it was queens that gave him pause. And if he was being absolutely honest, it wasn’t even queens. It was this queen. Kushiel could count the number of times he had made a good impression on one foot, and he didn’t have toes. He wasn’t sure he liked that someone could decide his fate. He didn’t even do that for himself.
However, if he thought about this any longer Kushiel would have to give himself up for lost. He was boring even himself, and that had never happened. There was nobody he loved so well as himself. It was with a sense of recklessness that he sought her out, as if he was thumbing his nose at sense and reason, rather than paying due respects to a monarch. When he did find her, that sense of abandon still clung to him.
“Straia” he said with a grin.
“Fancy meeting you here.” Oh yes, this was going well.
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
i want the world in my hands
 He’s a fool if he thinks introducing himself or not is relevant to his good time. She knows everything that goes on within her kingdom (and quite a lot of what goes on outside of it as well). Having an army of ravens to act as spies comes in quite handy. Her kingdom members know well enough that they have no secrets here, and nor should they. She has no secrets from them. There’s no question she won’t answer, no plans she has that they aren’t aware of. What good would that do any of them? Secrets were her father’s downfall as King. They would not be hers.
Not that she doesn’t have secrets from those outside the kingdom, but those sorts of secrets were necessary.
She’s known of Kushiel since he crossed the border. A gray fire is here! the crows had said. She knows where Kushiel took the Dale diplomat, she knows what was said in the conversation. She’s not entirely sure she’s pleased that he invited a high ranking member of another kingdom into their borders without permission, but in truth, she has nothing to hide. The Chamber is strong, far more than the Dale, and she doesn’t see what harm can come from Elysteria taking that knowledge home.
She also knows that the Chamber is rather full of different creatures, and for the most part, she leaves them all to their own devices. So long as they are loyal to the Chamber, so long as they do nothing to harm the kingdom, they can do as they please. Shaytan disappears to greener places where she can eat bunnies now and again. Gryffen has a collection of broken little pets running around here, and has killed a wayward mare with Cellar’s unsafe skin. Atrox comes and goes as he pleases. And she? She has a army of ravens at her disposal, and she spies on everyone.
He finds her though before she decides they need to properly meet. She grins slightly at his greeting. Straia, as a Queen, has never sought bows or some fake show of respect. She has worked, and will continue to work, to earn the respect that may be given to her. Though she admits, she wears her crown of feathers still. It amuses her, more than anything else. There’s no need for it, but she can, and so she does. Because why not? Wouldn’t others, if they too could fashion a crown of gleaming black feathers simply because they thought of it. Camrynn may not wear a crown, but she wore her magic painted on her in a thousand other marks. So Straia wasn’t alone.
“Kushiel,” she says simply, warmly enough. He greeting doesn’t bother her. “It is rather fancy, isn’t it?” she chuckles as a raven made of glass appears on her back. Just because. Well really, because if they are being fancy, she’s going to play along. “How are you finding the Chamber?” straia the raven queen of the chamber
 Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
It was quite impossible to like anyone if you took yourself, or them, too seriously. Kushiel very rarely made that mistake. On the rare occasions when he did burden himself with serious contemplation he found only unsavory things. Better to keep the fare a little lighter. It seemed Straia was of a like mind, or at least was happy to play along. His grin turned a little lopsided, a little roguish. He took a moment to admire her crown and raven, as amused as he was intrigued. His voice was pleasant when he spoke, only the slightest bit teasing.
“Fancy indeed. Sumptuous even. Though some would say it is modesty, that brightens a woman’s charms.” His grin turned reckless. Just to prove how absurd that idea was, how unlikely Kushiel was to do or appreciate anything subtle, he created his own crown. It was a foot tall and sprouted up around his ears in a cascade of barely controlled fire. It lasted only a few seconds, and Kushiel ended his little show with the pleasing smell of burning hair.
Perhaps it was less classy than hers, but he liked to think it had an allure of its own.
“Thank god those people aren’t here, huh?” As the last sparks fizzled from his forelock, Kushiel couldn't help but think that it was worth it, to tarnish his pretty hair if it meant getting a rise out of Straia, be it smile or scorn. He would very much like to add that to his list of accomplishments.
At her question he cast a glance around, as if his opinion would be made in that moment, rather than over the course of his time here. Surprisingly, he had yet to be asked how he found his new home. It would seem most considered it a waste of time to try and wring any useful conversation out of the large gray stallion who routinely set himself on fire.
Still, he appreciated a woman who would attempt the impossible with good humor.
“I find it…speaks to me in a way.” He couldn’t be sure in what way exactly. Maybe in that it provided him with everything he needed. Maybe that its burning tree, somehow like a flaming heart, was an echo of his own.
“I’m sure there is someone I could speak to about that.” He sent a smile her way, almost an apology for a sarcastic reflex he could do nothing to quell. But though his tone was casual, there was truth to it. It was hard to point to what it was that made the Chamber the way it was. Dark and alluring, yet somehow bright as fire. Perhaps it was just the collective subconsciousness of its inhabitants, all bottled together and shaken up until it fizzled over. He shook his head to clear away the clouding thoughts and looked at her with curiosity.
“How do you like ruling it?” He wasn’t sure what they were exactly, the questions that you would ask to a queen. This one seemed the most relevant.
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
i want the world in my hands
She has never taken herself, or any one else for that matter, particularly seriously. This posed more of a problem when she was a child, when playing the petulant princess amused her in more ways than she could count. And so she did. And far too many took her far too seriously. They did not end up as friends – lets just leave it at that. She preferred those that could be a little silly, a little witty, a little strange. Not that there wasn’t a time or place for seriousness (there was), but if every day is nothing but sunshine and rainbows and no fun at all. Well then, that’s just boring.
“I’m not trying to charm you, boy.” she says flatly, as is unimpressed. Though there’s a slight gleam in her eye, amused and not offended. Though she isn’t trying to charm that – that much is actually quite true. She didn’t try to charm anyone. What what the point in that? Well, rephrase. She didn’t try to charm anyone unless it benefitted the Chamber somehow. It was never for her benefit. She didn’t need an army of suitors (she didn’t want them, either). She didn’t need a pile of followers because her smile was pretty and her words modest.
She commanded an entire kingdom, and they listened for no other reason than they thought she deserved it; not for her, but for the Chamber. Everything is for the Chamber.
“Burnt harm is far from charming, by the way.” She sniffs somewhat dramatically. The smell really is awful, though she’s endless used to the smell of burning life. She had stayed in the Chamber when it was nothing but smoldering ash. In some ways, she was born of that fire and ruin.
He answers, and she believes his answer despite the bit of sarcasm thrown into the mix. She was quickly beginning to understand everything would be laced with sarcasm where it came to Kushiel, but she could certainly handle that little quirk. It was easier to temper than some of the others that ran through this company. “If you think yourself crazy, then we all need to be committed.” She chuckles slightly, though like he, there’s truth to those words. The Chamber speaks to all of them, in it’s way. Through the fire of their new tree. Through the beating of the heart beneath their feet.
“The Chamber rules me. I simple serve it with more dedication than everyone else. When that is no longer true, I will no longer serve as Queen.” She says simply. This is the only thing her father and her had ever really agreed on. The Chamber deserves the best. Once upon a time, that was him. Though he wore out his welcome on the throne and clung to the title anyway. Now, it was her. Someday, it would be someone else. So long as the Chamber thrived, nothing else mattered. straia the raven queen of the chamber
Kushiel nodded seriously, as if contemplating a reprimand from a monarch. Perhaps, that’s what he should have been doing, but the bright gleam of his eye gave him away. Kushiel would probably look like the devil during the sternest of dressing downs. All fire and wicked delight. It was a skill he perfected as a child. He had a high threshold for criticism. The trick was not preserving his delicate, fragile heart, but rather piercing his thick, smothering coat of self regard. Straia looking very queenly, had insisted she wasn’t trying to charm him. Well…they would see about that.
“Oh, but my dear, you needn’t try. Trying has nothing to do with it.” He grinned wickedly, implying that she charmed him whether she tried or not. Kushiel was only joking in his usual, reflexive way. Most of what he said was true if you were willing to ignore the humor. It was another trick he’d learned as a child. You could say anything if it was funny.
What was that old saying? A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down?
He laughed, full and throaty at her critique of his hair do. Hey, he could take it, and that sniff had been rather queenly.
“Well damn. I’m just shit out of luck then, aren’t I?” Kushiel’s hair was almost always burned, and in this moment it was worse than it usually was. But still, he maintained that it had been worth it. There was something about Straia, something sparkling and dark that was much more fun than a responsible ruler. He decided she was probably a riot when she wasn’t trying to rule a kingdom.
Responsibility had a way of doing that to people.
And apparently, the Chamber had a way of hypnotizing people. To that he could attest. There was no other possible explanation for why he was here, prepared to be useful if truly pressed. Until then, he was happy to live off the hospitality of a perpetual flame source and sweet spring grass. If he wasn’t careful he’d grow fat off the grass and drunk off the fire. Then we’d see how truly useful he could be.
“If everyone you rule over is mad we should call you the Queen of Fools, rather than the Queen of Ravens.” He could line of several adjectives for Straia and fool would not be one of them. Nor did she seem like the type that would suffer fools gladly. But she had said it, not him.
He looked at her carefully. As if he was attempting to see into her soul, trying to see what made her tick. He had heard that mystery was a form of power, and if so, it would make sense that she worked to maintain an air of it. Better the keep them guessing? But no, her answer had been alarmingly to the point, it was certainly nothing he could laugh at. So he tucked into the conversation with only a bit of resignation.
“And on that day, will you be relieved or disappointed?” Kushiel had no expectations for how she would answer his question. It was an honest one, and he thought a valid one. How could you not be relieved? When you completed your life’s work and could turn it over to someone else. When you could live a life that was your own and pursue selfish pleasures everyone else took for granted. Would you be happy to live a life entirely your own, or sad to lose the power and sense of purpose? Kushiel had never felt such a sense of purpose, he didn’t know how the loss would be borne. Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
i want the world in my hands
She’s taken to skipping the reprimand. Warship knows her for her supposed tongue-lashings, though she can’t really recall when she ever gave him one. Except as a child, when she simply did things to amuse herself. There was little to do as a princess without anyone else to play with, and when your father hardly let her stray four feet into the pine forest. Not that she listened, mind you, but she could only escape so often.
No, her method is simple. Fail the Chamber, be demoted or exiled or whatever punishment fits the crime. She did give second chances. She did not give third chances. It seemed to work well enough. Those that loved the Chamber would serve it, and they would succeed. Those that did not deserve their positions would not keep them. It was simply enough. She required no more of her kingdom mates than she did of herself. It only seemed fair.
He flirts, and she flicks her tail slightly, giving him something of an eye raise. It doesn’t actually bother her, of course, but she’ll act for a moment like she might be annoyed. It’s clear, however, she is not. There’s that mischievous twinkle in her eye. Not that she planned to do anything with this particular flaming stallion. For the most part, stallions did not impress her in a physical sort of way. Her one son was a product of the Chamber, not love or lust.
There were exceptions. Well, there was one exception. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.
She breaks down and laughs at his next comment though. “You might be,” she says with a wicked little grin. Of course, she suspects there are plenty of mares that would fall head over heels for someone who could, if he tried, maybe manage charming. And he could do tricks, and half of them just liked the idea of having a traited child. As if a trait made their child special.
“Who said madness means fool? Being mad, my friend, can be very useful indeed.” They probably all were a little mad. They lived in a kingdom with a heart beneath their hooves, with a tree that burned perpetually, with a collection of horses that longed not for peace but destruction. It was that madness that she loved. It was a calm, cool, dangerous sort of madness.
Though she is not mysterious. She is blunt and honest and to the point, unless such doesn’t suit the needs of the Chamber at the moment. But she has no secrets from her kingdom mates. Secrets had destroyed her father, and they would not do the same to him. She may rule, but she did not control. “It depends,” she says after a pause, thinking about his question. “I will only be disappointed if I failed my kingdom, and then I will only be disappointed in myself. But if I am able to hand over the crown because this place stays like this, and has flourished so thoroughly that the choice for the next monarch is hard, then I will be pleased. “
Not relieved though. Relieved seemed like the wrong word. She would wear the crown forever, if that were what the Chamber asked of her. Such was the depth of her dedication, but there was no obvious division between where Straia ended and where the Chamber began. She simply was part of her home, and one day, should the Chamber no longer need her, she’d give her blood and bones back to the earth that gave her life. straia the raven queen of the chamber
09-06-2015, 03:16 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-10-2015, 03:53 PM by Straia.)
Kushiel smiled, and there was a gleam to his eye, all the more wicked for it was unexpected. There are very few things more disarming than a person who spoke the truth and nothing more. It was a refreshing change, to be smacked in the face with an honest answer. In a room full of liars, the honest person would be the one who stood out, dangerous and rebellious for her candor.
Her laugh caused his smile to twitch into a grin, and he watched her with his warm, bold, eyes. His gaze was perhaps the only plainly honest thing about him. He didn’t glance aside or down. He simply watched her with an impolite level of interest, making no effort to hide the pleasure it gave him.
“Ah, now I understand you, Straia. You intentionally recruit the mad, for they will attempt schemes others would call crazy.” He thinks for a moment about his Chambermates. Several of them were, in fact, completely crazy. Kushiel did not count himself among them. He was full of shit, but he wasn’t crazy. There was a key and crucial difference. But, for one fleeting moment his flame flickered higher, and he felt the insatiable hunger inside him rise. The hunger for fire, and the all consuming lust of letting it burn. He swallowed it down and his grin turned sheepish, rueful.
Perhaps, just a little crazy than.
Still, Straia’s vision for her rule is surprisingly straightforward, the honest answer of a dedicated monarch. He isn’t surprised, per say, but it was not what he expected out of the mysterious Raven Queen he had built up in his mind. Yet, it would not be the first time the vision he had created in his head was not true of real life. It matched everything she had told him, clearly and honestly, and yet it still surprised him. He titled his head and looked at her a little more closely, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if any moment she would turn into some mythical beast and laugh at the joke she had played on the foolish boy. Of course, that didn’t happen and Kushiel shrugged, a less wicked, but no less pleased smile rising to take its place.
“A noble dream. Perhaps, you will go down in history as the woman who did her job well and cut the bullshit. You will have a book all to yourself.” As he had thought before, there was nothing more disarming than a powerful person willing to speak the truth of the matter. Straia may be crazier than she let on, for it was madness indeed to attempt something so straightforward. Yet, unable to let a profound statement linger, Kushiel continued.
“And how do you feel, my queen, about making an honest man out of this poor schmuck?” Shameless fishing and shameless flattery, it was what Kushiel did best.
i want the world in my hands
She seems to have created this image of her all throughout Beqanna. One that she is mysterious, with her ravens and her crown of feathers and her wicked grin. Another, that she is cruel and harsh when disappointed (maybe she is, but she still thinks she is nothing but fair). That she is sharped tongued and petulant (this is partially true, but it is a remnant of her childhood in which she had little to do but annoy).
She knows the rumors, of course, because the ravens tell her. And it always makes her laugh at bit. She has never tried to give off these perceptions of herself. Those that come to the border are greeting either with a cold politeness, if they have done nothing to annoy her. Or they are greated with a very honest opinion of what she thinks, good or bad. She doesn’t disagree with the rather true rumors about her that call her rude, mean words. Those are probably true. She called the Gates King a fool to his face, after all.
She grins, truly pleased, as his next statement. She nods her head slightly in agreement, black and white forelock swinging into her eyes as she does so, the crown of feathers shifting just slightly. “Tell me, if you could burn down any part of Beqanna, where would you start?” Because she cannot mind read, but she can guess. And she suspects that he has chosen this place for the reason they all do. Because one day, if she could make it happen without bringing ruin to the Chamber, they would burn Beqanna.
If they could not do that, they would simply light a fire under a few key parts of the puzzle and then watch them destroy each other. She liked that version better, truthfully. She liked the one where the Chamber looked, relatively, clean handed. But one in which they got to play a little, show off their power. She didn’t need all of Beqanna to know just exactly who broken them down, piece by piece.
But she needed her own key player to start playing first.
He returns to the topic of her, and then his usual joking matter. “What kind of honest man do you want to be?” She takes a step closer, words whispered into his ear, nearly touching. A raven lands on his back, talons finding purchase in his back. And then another, and another. She grins slightly, and then the ravens burst into fire as she slinks along his side. Playing. Pretending.
Why?
Because she can.
straia the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
09-11-2015, 03:48 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-12-2015, 01:27 AM by Kushiel.)
Kushiel had to consider her question carefully. The idea caused a wicked smile to quirk to his lips, though it had never been far away. His whole life he had been told that he would certainly, one day, burn Beqanna to the ground. Everyone had told him that such a foolish boy could never control such a destructive power. They had not considered that he would do it on purpose. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t. Such exertion was not high on Kushiel’s list. When he burned things it was usually bits and pieces of himself. His mane, a bit of his forelock (never his tail), and when the flames got very, very high, he would even say a little of his soul. It was cleansing, exhilarating, pleasure and pain all at once. While he was still considering her question, he gave a perfunctory, flirtatious answer at once.
“Why, whatever part has annoyed you most recently, my queen.” Of course that was his answer, for Kushiel was such a dedicated kingdom man, loyal to his queen and cause. He was actually, rather loyal to kingdom and cause, but he worked hard to insure that was not the impression he gave. He would rather others think him a useless fool. It was easier to surprise people when they expected nothing from you in the first place. With a thoughtful tilt of his head Kushiel continued.
“Followed by the Tundra. Think how I would be feared, a man who could burn down a frozen kingdom?” Besides, it was really time those boys went out and met some women. You could only hide away with your buddies for so long. Perhaps they just found male companionship more enjoyable. Kushiel shrugged, to each his own. Kushiel considered for another moment.
“If you lent me that boy of yours we could do some real damage…” For a brief moment Kushiel saw the flames rising before his eyes. His one weakness was that he couldn’t actually create fire. It was a weakness he did not advertise. If he had so much as a spark he could manipulate it, twist it, make it grow, but where there was no spark there was no fire. It was why he carried flame with him, and why he liked the Chamber’s tree so much. Erebor, however, would solve all his problems. One stallion who could create heat and another who could manipulate fire, it was almost funny, that they should reside in the same kingdom, and follow the same queen. Kushiel smirked.
Who would have thought that kids solved problems?
He was distracted from his musing when Straia moved closer. Predictably, Kushiel’s thoughts instantly switched priorities. She all but whispered in his ear and the big stallion felt a shiver race down his spine. He looked at her with almost a touch of wariness, (for he wasn’t foolish enough to assume his undeniable charm had won her over) but with considerably more pleasure. She was smaller than him by a hand, so he dropped his head a little lower, graciously presenting his ear should she want to continue whispering. That’s when the birds landed. Kushiel was so distracted by her that the first thing he felt was talons. The big man jumped, like someone had stuck him with a poker, then forced himself to stand still and to gaze into Straia’s eyes, silently asking what she was up to. The birds talons bit into his skin and he was about to shake them off, or else light them on fire, when they obliged him. The slight pain instantly turned to pleasure, and he groaned, low and pleased, like a man with a good woman or a strong drink. His eyes, usually sharp and playful, clouded over, and when he spoke his voice was nearly groggy.
“I think you know I’ll be your man if you keep this up.” He felt her slink along his side, and like a magnet he was drawn to her. For a brief moment he wondered if she would burn, if she could join him in his blazing inferno. The fire on his back raged higher, and he groaned again. So easily won over, when she handed him his drug of choice, both the literal flames and her slinking form. Trying to maintain some small measure of himself Kushiel spoke again.
“Though I can’t promise you perfect honesty.” He could promise her other things though. And he would tell her whatever she needed to know. He trusted her birds to tell her the rest, though three of them were still burning on back.
i want the world in my hands
No one ever told her anything other than she was a petulant child. No one saw greatness in her, or expected her to rule (let alone overthrow her own father to get the crown). No one had ever really expected much of anything from her, really, other than a sharp response and a poke in the ribs. Ah, hadn’t she fooled them all. It was better that way. Better to be seen as one thing (a child, a fool), and to strike when they don’t even see you coming. Half the time you set them all so far off balance that they simply topple right out of the way.
Her father had accepted his fate with far more grace than she expected. Granted, he might slip in and kill her in her sleep on day. Not that the ravens would allow it, but he might try.
She thinks there’s far more to him than the mask of the comedian that he wears. She doesn’t blame him for the mask. Masks are useful, and fun. But she thinks he’s rather a capable thing, when asked politely. Or when given the right tools. But his first comment is the mask that he wears. Still, she laughs, because it does amuse her. There’s something enjoyable about being flattered, even though she’s fully aware it’s quite fake.
His second answer is better though. She’s never given much thought to the Tundra. They stay quiet, but there in their frozen wasteland of a home. Fine, it wasn’t actually a wasteland, but she thinks it might as well be. They were a little displeased that Crito was here though. Even tried to steal him back. Not that they were successful. Really, did they think the ravens didn’t tell her everything? She knows when others are sneaking about.
“I might loan him out. It could be quite the show.” she says. Not that Erebor belonged to her in any such sense. He belonged to her only insofar as he served the Chamber, and therefore answered to her decisions, as did everyone else in the kingdom. Not that she made it a point of making particularly unpopular decisions. In fact, she made very few decisions without the agreement (or as close as they could get to agreement) of her kingdom. Except the alliance with the Valley, simply because at the time it was necessary. Now though? She hadn’t yet decided, and she was slowly seeking opinions.
But she does have to agree. The Chamber would be something, if they burned down a kingdom of ice.
But the mood of their conversation shifts, and she cannot deny that she enjoys this. In what is likely a very different way than he does, certainly, but she does enjoy it. It is always fun to be the strong woman, to be the one wielding something of the puppet strings. No one in her kingdom was really a puppet (except for Gryffen’s pets), but she can’t pretend that she doesn’t enjoy power now and again. She does. And despite the mask of the fool that he wears, he isn’t half bad.
Kushiel has one fatal flaw. Shame really, because it’s not even his fault. The simple problem is, she likes the unattainable far more. The simple problem is, he is not Weed.
But Weed wasn’t always around. And Weed might not come back.
So she whispers into his ear again, made far easier since he’s dropped his head. “I might just take you up on that offer one day.” Maybe their child would wield fire or ravens or both. Maybe it would be nothing, except another product of the Chamber, but that too was enough. Though for now, she needs no more children. And for now, there is Weed.
She moves away though. Not necessarily because she wants to, but because she’s only immune to her own fire, when the ravens burn. She is not immune to his, and the inferno on her back could leave her side charred. She didn’t mind a few scars, a few bits of pain, but half a seared body was another thing. Though she leaves the burning ravens on his back for now, letting him play with the fire. Maybe, if he proved himself worthy enough, she’d give him one to keep.
straia the raven queen of the chamber
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