Days were long, and the hours needed to be filled. It was better when something other than his own thoughts rattled around in his head. A pretty girl, a funny child. Hell, he’d even pal around with the boys as long as they kept their testosterone to themselves. Kushiel was not picky. It was really only his own company he had a problem with.
When left to his own devices, Kushiel usually drowned himself in fire. Flame down his neck, flame down his back, flames in his eyes. It felt good, and while he often smelt the burning stink of charred mane, his skin accepted the fire like a long lost friend. He could go too far, and had for most of his life. These days he carried only a bit with him. The flame tangled in his mane, and Kushiel felt it tug at him.
Could he find nothing better to do, he would be happy enough to waste away what was left of this day. But it was really the night he liked to burn. Somehow his own flame was less enchanting under the burning of the sun. At night there were few to rival his show, and he liked it that way.
If you’re going to perform, you may as well know your audience.
Kushiel was a performer first, and had been a vagrant second. Somehow, the Chamber had gotten her hooks in him. If he didn’t have so much respect for his own mother he would say that kingdom living was the real cruel bitch mother. He was happy to get away, if only for a little while.
They were so demanding, kingdoms. Always expecting him to attend meetings. Not appreciating his sparkling wit.
Was he turning into a working stiff?
That thought was truly laughable, but still he contemplated it fully. Was he boring? It was not a possibility he had ever before entertained. Kushiel cast a glance around. Surely, there was someone here who could appreciate the conversation he had to bring to them.
As long as nobody said a thing that sounded remotely like honor, duty or self-sacrifice, he would be content.
Kushiel
some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall