even a n g e l s fall
My son is the moon, the stars and the sun. To me, he is perfect. He was born of earth and of gold, of silver and of steel. Vercingetorix was my everything and he will be everything. I whispered the secrets of all that I know in his ear as a babe, resting his head against my side. Whilst Killdare would tell him of warrior tales, I would soothe his young head to sleep. He was much older, too old for that now. I would see him flitting around the chamber, his eyes burning as bright as the flaming tree. Oh, he had such promise and it swelled my insides with pride when others spoke of him. After all, when you have created something, there is that ounce of pride that radiates from you.
Kushiel was a mystery. He seemed bright, as passionate and as fiery as the flame he dons, and yet, yet beyond the steel of his coat, he was something else entirely. I listen, as always, with attuned ears and a silent tongue. I listen until he stops and his grin matches the burning in his eyes. 'I believe that the chamber has suffered enough burns, to last her lifetime.' my tone is wistful as it is woven magic. Cool, crisp. I steadily parade about him, all gold and cream, all gossamer threads bouncing against my strong, yet lithe neck. Sapphire eyes like gemstones, finely polished like the silver of my tongue, they watch him with as much intensity as I study the fire in the boughs. 'Ah, if there is mud in her veins and fire in yours, I can see why you are here and not there.' I pause then, twiddling ears gently shifting, lost within the creamy mounds of mane. 'The Chamber is of ash and of ruin. Of earth and of flame. We burn bright against the shadows, and if you ask anyone else, they will say the same. The Chamber is a force, all of her own and she has a strange way of... claiming individuals.' my words slip like delicate lace, folded over and over again. A brilliant seamstress that wields the black magic like silk and satin.
'We are all honest here, Kushiel. And I, I have no time for liars.' my voice is silken smooth as I drape myself around, limbs loose and limber as they stalk a want circle about the burning boy. Tilting my head in such a way, my sapphire eyes linger on parts of him more than others, but not so much as interested in anything else, bar the flame. It glows, it flickers, truly alive. I chuckle then, such a smooth sound. An angelic face, cherubic and soft, but as my mother, my father and any in my past had found out, even angels do fall. 'We are all stripped down to the core here, dear Kushiel. The Chamber finds your wick and burns you, right to your very beating heart... She knows if you are not as true as you think or say. But you, oh you, you are as honest as the moon in the sky and the stars that prick the night.' I had given my heart, lost it to part the Chamber and part Killdare. He is my earth, the shadow that drapes me at night and the sunlight that warms me in the day. I do not question anything with him and he, he should never question anything with me. This, this boy, Kushiel. the burning one. He piques my interest like some new toy, and I have not played with none for quite some time now. The feel quite tempts my fancy. 'Oh, and I appreciate honesty, so very much.'
engelsfors
advisor of the chamber