"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
Alive or dead, they all become ghosts at some point. They all become stories, some of them legends, all of them a piece of historical fabric. Some of them fade off quietly, some of them go out in a blaze of glory. But they all fade eventually.
The good ones find their way back.
Warship himself has never been able to shrug off the collar of the Chamber and fade into that quiet nothingness. Its been there, noose-like and greedy, robbing him of life and blood since the moment his eyes opened. He can barely remember what his mother looked like, but he can recall every version of the Chamber he has ever seen. Flaming trees and magical Ravens, a brief joining with the Valley; he remembers them all in detail. He can also remember faces that were constant, though their features have grown hazy over time; Atrox, his sire, the scarred Panther King who had given his heart for his kingdom. Straia, the tobiano mare he watched grow into something beautiful and fierce. So many faces, so many lifetimes.
The Chamber is quiet today, as she has been for several years. A lull has settled over the lands, filling in the gaps that the abscene of horseflesh leaves behind. There was a time that the old warrior would have sought out such solitude, but now he finds himself growing bored of it. While he is a man of few words, he is at his very core an equine, a creature not made for solitary living. A mournful howl leaves his mouth as his golden eyes scan his surroundings. He finds nothing or no one, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.
12-18-2025, 05:33 PM (This post was last modified: 12-18-2025, 05:33 PM by Kavi.)
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
They say opposites attract - but when I hear his howl, the twitch of my hide reveals less of attraction than of morbid curiosity. I recognize the voice, edged in lupine tones: the black stallion who appeared at the kingdom meeting called not days ago. And though I do not claim to know his mind, somewhere in the brief moments of eye contact we shared during that meeting, I found in him a kindred lonesomeness. Found eyes beleaguered not by the war their keeper claimed to worship, but by the absence of others, be they loved, hated, or merely there.
A crooked quirk of my lips betrays my curiosity for this man, lover of war, bearer of strength and vitality, he who seems in so many ways my opposite yet beckons self-reflection in the turn of his gaze.
I suppose I, too, have become bored of reclusion.
The harsh slope of my withers and hips lend a cadence emblematic of old age to the ring of my hooves as they strike the cobblestone paths leading to the stallion's locale. I make attempts to hide neither age nor curiosity as I approach. With ears pricked forward and the whites of my eyes making coy, momentary appearances, I slip past the line of pines separating him from myself and approach at a side-long angle; not straight-on, nor parallel.
Gods, how long has it been since I spoke with another soul outside of my family? Decades...
With that thought clear in my mind, I decide not yet to break the silence. Instead, I close the distance between him and I at my ambling pace, lowering my head slightly in deference. When we stand a half-length apart, I offer him my muzzle, blowing out in greeting and scent exchange. He smells canine, dangerous; a predator possessing the skin of an equine as so many do in Beqanna these days. A shudder of my withers and a gentle raise-and-lower of my hind leg belies my instinct's response to such a creature; but otherwise, I remain composed.
This ritual complete, I flick my tail around my hocks and lower my head, grazing lightly. The zeroing-in of my ears on his head betray my interest in what he might say to break the silence.
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
They may be fewer than they were before, but the tried and true Chamberlings are still out there. Like him, they've become relics. Ancient artifacts to be admired but never replicated. But still, they exist. Hidden in the recesses of the kingdom herself, or living in some far-flung land without a name. The ones who leave always return at some point, though.
A fly breaks his reverie first. It is a persistent thing, and despite his slashing tail and shivering skin, it still seems hell bent on having a bite of him. From withers to rump it flies, lighting only just long enough for him to feel it and shoo it away. He has almost made up his mind to go back to the shadows when another sound catches his attention. Hoofbeats.
He turns to watch the other stallion approach, his brows furrowed as he looks him over. There is definitely something familiar about him, and while Warship is certain their paths have crossed he can't yet place the name to the face. The buckskin doesn't speak, a fact which suits Warship. Words are not his strong suit; actions speak louder than words. So he does not have an issue with the wordless approach, though he is somewhat curious about it. At their core they are all equines, but they've mostly ignored or forgotten those fundamental things that make them, them.
Warm, sweet breath spills from the buckskins flaring nostrils. Warship breaths deep, his ears pricked at the simple exchange. He can see the other is nervous, fighting the instincts that tell him Warship is more predator than horse. Still, he doesn't flee, so Warship offers him a breath back. When the exchange is through the buckskin begins to graze, seemingly content to just exist as horses have existed for millenia. Together but wordless.
He tears up great mouthfuls of grass, and the muscles along his jaw flew with each chew. Though he has never felt the urge to eat meat, his canine teeth make grazing and chewing somewhat more difficult. But he forges on, content with the sunshine and the company. But after several more mouthfuls, even Warship decides he'd rather hear something other than chewing.
"You look familiar. Warship." It isn't much, but it isn't chewing and chirping birds.
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
Sunshine and company, and birdsong, too. The quietude of the moment soothes the alerts raised in my nervous system by the predatorial stallion beside me and I slip easily into my usual mode: letting time pass, enjoying the small moments to justify my immortality. By the time he raises his head from our meal, I feel put at ease, raising my own Arabic head to meet his gaze straight-on.
You look familiar. Warship.
A droplet of memory ripples the surface of my awareness. Warship.
As I retrace the threads of the past, my wanderings externalize: from the coronet of my forehoof facing Warship, a pine tree sprouts, grows, and looms, its peaked top reaching to my crown. It erupts, the flames eating away its coniferous greenery until all the remains is its skeletal trunk and branches, lit for the indefinite future. The creator of my once-idol whispers in my mind, her voice quiet, strong, imbued with authority and familiarity.
I smile.
"Warship," I repeat in my honey-whiskey tone. "A pleasure to meet you again after all these decades." The tree along my shoulder fades as the portrait of a tobiano Arabian materializes, her intelligent eye glimmering, finding Warship in tandem with myself. "My name is Kavi. I am uncle to Straia, with whom I believe you may have once had a dalliance." My ears perk, nostrils flare, every sense straining with curiosity for Warship's reaction to this disclosure. "And of course, we both know what she has done for the Chamber."
After a moment, I relax my attention, Straia's visage washing from my hide. In her place, a buckskin-toned landscape emerges, a dozen painted figures old and young playing in a field beside a lake in the basin of rolling hills. My family, alive and dead, gathered in one of the many places I consider home: Hyaline. Born and raised in the Jungle, priest in the Chamber, grandfather in Hyaline and later, the Silver Cove; I chuckle.
"Strange, how this land cycles through her many faces," I mutter, half to myself. "Strange, to be back where I stood when I was just finding my legs."
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
There is an emptiness in his belly that has nothing to do with food. It festers and grows as time marches on, causing a bone deep ache that can't be soothed. It isn't physical hunger that pains him; Its a longing for a place he can never return to.
That place he aches for is only memories now. That place is the home of ghosts, and he is a creature made of flesh and blood. There's no room in the spirit realm for old warriors such as himself.
He watches in amazement as the coat of the buckskin shifts, the golden hair shifting to the dark green of pine and the orange of flames. His eyes glaze as the picture changes again, this time showing that fierce little pinto mare he came to admire so much. Memories from days gone by come roaring back to the forefront, and for a moment he thinks he hears a raven screech. But the ghosts are chased away by the present, and when the stallion offers his name, Warship returns it with a small smile and an incline of his head. Though their paths didn't cross frequently, his is a name Warship has heard. "Kavi. If there's one thing I've learned about the Chamber, its that she refuses to let old dogs lie." he says with a huff.
The next words, however, turn his huff into something of a choke, and if Warship were capable of blushing, his cheeks would be flaming. Everyone knew that Warship and Straia had provided the kingdom with three heirs, but no one spoke of it, least of all Warship himself. So when Kavi does, it takes Warship aback. "Ahem..." he says, clearing his throat before continuing, "I provided Straia heirs, yes. Erebor, Korbin, and Bismark. Three boys." he finishes, his eyes searching the treetops and anywhere else that Kavis eyes are not. He is thankful when the conversation changes, and nearly breathes aloud his sigh of relief. He's never been one to kiss and tell, and certainly not to the girls uncle.
As the conversation shifts he relaxes too, cocking a hind leg and allowing to sun to warm his ancient bones. Kavis coat swirls as another picture is painted, one filled with faces Warship does and doesn't know. "I've left the Chamber many times, sometimes by choice and sometimes guided by the grim reaper himself. But for whatever reason, I always come back." he muses, as if lost to the same thoughts Kavi was lost in. "Maybe its part of the magic here. Hell, I don't know. Maybe it drags us old farts out to remind the youngsters of what we were. Thats what Straia used to call me, was an old fart." he chuckles, a genuine noise that rumbles from his chest. The ache is still in his belly, but being in the company of another like him helps soothe it some.
01-13-2026, 03:10 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2026, 03:12 PM by Kavi.)
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
Glazed eyes, a thousand-mile stare; he loses himself to the illusion of Straia, if for but a moment. The expression speaks untold volumes of thoughts and emotions. I wonder at their nature. Intimacy? Connection? Affection? My stomach squeezes at the idea, my mind wandering to the woman I myself love. Insignificance, she whose name plays oxymoron in the halls of my mind's palace every moment of every day, be as it is that she is the queen of my heart. Ours is a gentle romance, one of steadfast devotion through decades of separation and wonder, honed now to quiet perfection.
Warship's subsequent demonstration of social agony breaks my reverie and I chuckle, imagining that had the stallion my magicked coat, his cheeks might burn crimson red. My broad chest reverberates with low laughter at Warship's tactical description of the provision of heirs--I must run this idea past Insignificance later tonight, see if she is interested in any further provisions... At our advanced age, we could afford to make an attempt every hour on the hour without every finding success.
And oh, how we revel in it!
Forcing myself to leave behind these wanton thoughts and focus on being the chivalrous gentleman I pride myself on being, I step closer to Warship and thrust my shoulder into his, the gesture a simultaneous conveyance of teasing and reassurance.
"I myself have a son and a daughter, and countless grandchildren and great grandchildren from the latter. For all the fun that comes from creating these lives," I step away, flicking my salt-and-pepper tail towards Warship's flanks in another playful dig, "I always found the children themselves to be the greatest reward of the ordeal. Tell me, are you close with any of your sons? I myself maintain close ties with Kagerus and her wife Solace and their many descendants." I gesture to my hide, where my family yet cavorts. "They live in a place like this, beyond Beqanna's borders. They are content to live in peace there, away from this realm's chaos." I smirk, commentary on why I've left that nameless sanctuary going unsaid as I quirk my ears to listen to Warship speak of the Chamber.
I throw my head back and whinny at his description of us as old farts, the sound trailing on as he identifies the nickname's progenitor. "What, am I truly showing my age that badly?" I list a foreleg and straighten my sway back as much as I can, aiming for a statuesque posture worthy of an Alliance war horse. The facade ends with another burst of laughter as my body relaxes again. My head swings side-to-side. "Gods, you remind me of Warrick. He is Solace's father, and my good friend." My eyes twinkle as I settle down, meeting Warship's gaze. "If only he were here, we could create the Chamber's Old Fart Council. Straia would be so proud."
KAVI
Kagerou x Rhaego
ooc: I love your wordsplosion and am all warm inside at how goofy these two are together.
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
Warship isn't regretful for the things he has done. He has spilt blood and broken bones, led war bands against enemy kingdoms and bled them dry. He has not an ounce of shame for doing those things. His kingdom asked, and so he did it. But the things he hasn't done...those things eat him alive.
Truth be told he wasn't a great father. More than once he has found solace between a pair of nameless hips, whispering sweet nothings before slipping back into the dark and leaving them to raise the child. Never forceful, but he could be charming when the mood suited him. Several of his children have known him, but to know him and love him are two different things. He raised his children how he himself was raised, never knowing better to do better. For the most part, his children were created because of his own selfishness or to fill a need in his kingdom. Other than Vaughan and Smother, the only two created out of love.
Golden hide meets black, and he takes the blow with an easy grunt. He is sure they make quite a picture, these dinosaurs of a forgotten era. One gold, one black, both carrying the weight of a lifetime on their shoulders. He listens to Kavi speak of his children, and for a moment he feels envy bloom in his chest. A sigh leaves his mouth as his gaze wanders again. "I was never what you would call close to any of my children. I knew them, but I didn't raise them." he grumbles, idly scraping a hoof across the ground. "I'd like to try to change that with the twins though, Wisky and Nadja. They are wandering around here somewhere." He means that. He isn't one to dwell in the past, but he refuses to not learn from it, either.
As the conversation wanders on he cocks a hip, settling into the easiness of it. Its been too long since he's felt like this; maybe never if he's honest with himself. Kavis laugh breaks the quiet, and even the birds take to the sky in indignation. The same warm noise begins to bubble from Warships throat, and before he can stop it, he is lost to it. Their collective amusement fills the empty space around them. "If we had an Old Farts Council and Straia The Princess Brat, we could shake up this whole realm, not just this kingdom. Carnage himself would be hard pressed to match our collective wisdom." he says through the laughter. "I cast my vote for you as President, and I'll be Vice President. Forgive me, but your grays make you look wiser than me. he finishes with a smirk.
01-15-2026, 06:56 PM (This post was last modified: 03-06-2026, 01:32 PM by Kavi.)
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
My question regarding children seems to send Warship into a reverie, one more of a brooding nature than nostalgic. My mind flits to my mother Kagerou and my nephew Rhaegor, both of whom claimed the gift of telepathy. If only I could read your mind, new friend, I muse. Then perhaps I could help lighten that burden you shoulder. But our friendship is indeed too new and the man before me, I sense, too new to connection to bear my empathy. His next words confirm my suspicion, though the mention of new children sees my ears perking and head nodding.
"Wisky and Nadja. Those are proud names, both. I hope I should get to meet them one day."
As the conversation meanders on, the sun overhead dips towards the crests of the pine forest encircling the pair. For all her supposed evil, the Chamber offers a picturesque backdrop to the tender blossoming of masculine friendship between two prehistoric equines. Even the birds, momentarily eschewing their branches for want of peace and quiet, return to their posts before the orchestra of our harmonizing laughter finishes. Booming and rolling, whinnying and snorting, the two of us sound more like yearlings sharing a dirty joke than like relics laughing at their own expense; like Warship, I struggle to remember a time in recent memory when I felt so present, so free to be myself.
"Hey!" I retort at Warship's dig about my grays. I heave my weight forward, giving a bunny kick towards the muscled stallions' rear hocks. The rock of my hips back to earth gives me the momentum to raise my forelegs and I execute a smart levade to snake a nip towards Warship's crown. I wheel away once all four hooves find earth again, my Arabian tail arced in a classic display of spirited playfulness.
"Gray I may be, old man, and sway-backed too, but I bet I could still take you." My tone rings jocular and brutish, the fun of our encounter bringing back the bachelor tucked deep inside my immortal soul. The fact that I have never once been a warrior and that the last time I skirmished with anyone was when I hadn't yet finished developing my bones, gallivanting through the dense Amazonian underbrush playing war with Rodrik and Rayelle, does not faze me in the slightest. After all, I have my coat of illusionism to protect me!
Speaking of which, I use my magic to contour not-so-subtle muscle lines over my aged body, giving it a comic effect of my being some kind of super-horse rather than a super-grandpa. I pin my ears and rock my weight back and forth, ready to dodge and dirk from whatever he throws my way. "Come on, Old Fart Vice President. You aren't too old to get your knees dirty, are you?"
KAVI
Kagerou x Rhaego
Never knew how healing it would be to play a grandpa but here we are and I am squealinggggggg, they have my heart
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
Immortality was as much a curse as it was a blessing. His memories never had a chance to become ghosts. They never had a chance to fade into that place that long-lost memories go before they are forgotten entirely. While they were never at the forefront of his mind (that spot had always been occupied by his kingdom), they lurked in that shadowy place, whispering and watching. Red eyes, blue hide, panther kings, raven queens, serpent women...all of them there, all of them fresh.
Immortality was damnation, but his kingdom needed him and so damnation was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Give and give and give, until the well ran dry. That was his mantra.
He offers Kavi a smile at the mention of the twins, nodding his head in agreement. "They come from good stock. I don't know that they'll make a name for themselves like you could in our day, but I hope they try anyways." he says, and he means it. No, The Chamber wasn't what it was when Warship and Kavi headed the ranks, but it was still here, and their bloodline was Chamber through and through.
As the moon fights its way into the sky their conversation churns on, playful and carefree and unlike anything Warship has ever participated in. He has only ever worn the face of General, never the face of friend. The laughter feels both foreign and familiar, and he can't say that its entirely unpleasant. He dodges the buckskins kicks easily enough, years of battle training taking over and leading him away. He does allow one soft blow to land though, and he counters it with a chuckle and a toss of his tangled mane. "Please. I've had leaves fall off of the trees that hit me harder than that." he says with a teasing smirk.
But when the stallion shifts his coat, the smirk quickly morphs into full blown laughter, the kind that started in his belly before rumbling into his chest. Even the birds, so peaceful and quiet before, squawk in indignation at the foreign sound. "Old Fart I may be, but I didn't make it this long by being Stupid Old Fart. I wouldn't dream of taking on a God himself." he says through the laughter.
Warship has never really had a friend, but he is quite sure friends don't beat up friends.
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
Much later that evening, I settle down into my bed of time-softened pine needles with a throaty groan. The irritable chirping in my knees admonishes my earlier playfulness, but the singing in my heart lulls their complaints into dozing murmurs and brings a smile to my gray lips as my groan turns into a comforted, weathered exhale. Flat on my side for tonight's rest, I gaze up at the stars overhead, knowing that the brilliant sun will interrupt my slumber sooner than later—my new friend and I only quit each other's company on the premise of that fact, citing both our needs for sleep as reason enough to forego a coltish all-nighter.
I chuckle. "Warship indeed," I mutter to myself, admiring the undeniable prowess of the immortal's physique from within my mind's eye, contrasted as I now know it to be with the warmth underneath said physique that even the stallion himself seemed to have never noticed before. A lovely discovery. With dreams snagging on the edges of my consciousness, I illustrate Warship and two small, imagined figures, curled up on knees and ankles in a puddle of paternal affection. I doubt its legitimacy, but I don't mind; knowing that my new friend desires to improve with his newest children seems miracle enough, given what he shared with me about his relationships with the ones who came before.
"Gods, you are such a sap. Did I truly get that from you?" My daughter's laughing voice punctuates the hum of restful electricity besotting me, reaching to me with her magic to hold me close in the dream realm, a habitual comfort for many moons now. As I relinquish my hold on consciousness, my other-world ears prick, hearing the squeals and whinnies of my youngest grandchildren as they, too, enjoy the fantasy that Kagerus has dreamt up for them tonight. When Kagerus materializes before me, maroon-and-white hide glistening with dew, I toss my head and trot to her, the aches of reality relieved. We embrace.
"You come by it naturally," I say into her thick black mane. "You would have been a lover with any father to raise you. I'm just forever grateful that that job landed with me. I am a lucky man, to call you my daughter."
Kagerus whinnies a laugh and nips my shoulder as she pushes me away, a gleeful expression colouring her nutmeg eyes and obsidian lips. With a flick of her tail, she turns to welcome me to the remainder of her dream this night, Solace welcoming me shortly after and all three of us standing to watch over the children, taking on shapes of dragons, trees, men, puddles, snowflakes, and anything they can dream of. As we admire their liveliness, I settle into the warmth of family, telling my daughters of my wonderful new friend, Warship.
About his many accomplishments, on and off the battlefield; for the Chamber, and according to his powerful internal compass. I manifest him in the dream, we discuss whether they'd met him or not in their time, we reminisce about the old days, when one could make a name for themselves as my daughters did. I smile a private smile.
Excited in a new way for morning to come.
Excited to see my friend again, here, in these hallowed Chamber grounds.
