"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
The Gates seriously needs to get its shit together. They’re quickly approaching a war with the Chamber day by day - a battle the likes of which the kingdom hasn’t seen in many years. On the verge of such a battle they should be strengthening themselves - training and building their defences.
And yet, here they are, letting a steal slip past them.
It doesn’t bode well for the upcoming war.
She’s fuming quietly to herself when she reaches the Chamber’s border. There’s no one in sight, so she settles in to wait. Considering how eager the Chamber is to bring the Gates down, she has no doubt that someone will be along to gloat at her soon.
As she waits she can’t help but think of her mother. She’s been avoiding thinking of her the whole walk here, but now that she’s stuck here alone with her thoughts, her mind can’t help but wander. Will she be able to visit her mother (she’s not yet aware of the recent tragedy)? What will her mother look like? Will she be healthy? Will the Chamber have treated her well?
The thoughts are unsettling to her - she hasn’t seen her mother in almost five years. She tries to to distract herself by looking at the surrounding trees, but it’s no use - her mother continues to fill her thoughts.
no matter what we breed we still are made of greed
The straw that broke the camels back. Would this be it? Was it enough to start the ball rolling? Killdare had tired of mere lip flapping, it was time for action, it was time for this so called War. When everything in his own life had become unstable and unpredictable he reverted to that which was familiar.
It was no feat truly, to steal the princess from the Gates, a sad and feeling Kingdom as it was. He couldn't help but feel a bit amused with himself as the scent of clover and greenery wafted towards him on the breeze. The little trinket had arrived, right on schedule to serve her time too. He'd not keep her waiting, though he wasn't expecting her to receive him well- he would not shame the Chamber by doing the same.
It is enough to find her, pressing the skies as he was, blocking the sun where it shone on her shining pelt. He would be hard pressed to mistake the smell of the Gates or to miss it among the danker notes of the Chamber's pines. It's not for show that he lands before her, simply dropping in place because he must at some point, must he not? The loose silt rising about his earthy hide, coating it further in residual matter from the lichen floor.
"I'd say welcome but I'm sure you wouldn't feel that way even if I did." He booms, his voice gruff and deep like a bass note among many treble harmonies. "Killdare, and they call you Sidra is it?"
Much as she expected, a Chamberling appears soon after her reaching the border. She glares darkly at the bay winged stallion as he appears through the pines, eying the muscular frame and battle scars. Clearly a member of the army, though he’s not one of the bastards that had helped to raid the Gates. But maybe she’ll be meeting him on another battlefield soon enough …
“Hard to feel welcome when you’re a prisoner.” She scoffs loudly. “Yes, I am Sidra.” She doesn’t bother with the usual polite pleasantries, the ‘pleased to meet you’s and ‘how are you’s - after all, she’s not at all pleased to meet him, and she doesn’t give a damn about his wellbeing.
“Well, what do you expect of me while I’m here?” Her dark brown eyes peer into the pines around him, half expecting the Chamber’s resident douchebag (Gryffen) to make an appearance and gloat. She’s in a bit of a precarious position here. As a political prisoner, the Chamber could decide to ‘make use’ of her to prove a point, or to even jumpstart the war.
Though, her mother’s deal still prevents that. That is, if Chamberlings even believe in keeping their word.
The thought of Fiasko instantly makes her nervous. As she’d already noted, it’s been years since she last saw the painted mare. Sidra’s eyes finally return to Killdare’s face. “If I’m going to be stuck here, might I visit with my mother?”
no matter what we breed we still are made of greed
Teenagers.
That off-putting sass that Raelle herself was just now exploring. He Hmmmphhh’s at her comments of imprisonment, suppose in a sense she was right. “You do not know the meaning of being a prisoner Sidra, you’ll not come to find that true meaning here either.” It’s not to comfort her really, it’s simple fact. Her time in the Chamber would be no true imprisonment. That was a far darker and harder reality than he would have a child face. Killdare was not his father.
“Expecting some company?” He asks, her watchful eyes taking care to attend to their surroundings. Her voice continues, ever so talkative the girls were. “I’m sure to find something to occupy you while you’re here. For now keep out of the way, mind your own and you should be left alone. For now, you being here is enough.” Truly, that was all he really needed, simply the girls captivity within his realm. Plucked the Princess from their care, surely that was enough to get them riled.
Again, she does something all women seem to do, make him uncomfortable. Visit her Mother? So the girl didn’t know, Weaver’s arrival had been after his steal- he frowned. He stretched his wings, only in preparation for what was next, he recalled Dacia’s distress in her own Dam’s death. She wouldn’t want his comfort, but he couldn’t have her running around, acting a fool.
Humans might first say, sit down before we speak. Horses, not so much.
“I- I’m afraid that won’t be possible Sidra.” Outstretched wings tensed to snare her should she fall prey to hysterics. “You’re Mother is no longer with is, she’s gone on...to the Beaches.” Well, this was a lovely start, far more involved than he had planned on being.
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