between the shadows and the soul - demian, gallows, everdeen

[Gallows]

The walk from the Chamber to the Valley isn't a long one, and it is certainly a familiar one. We don't talk much, thereby busting the myth that all mares do is gab. I for one am not a fan of small talk unless I am purposely trying to irritate someone. I prefer being blunt. It's just so much faster and since most of the time I already know what someone is thinking, it's pointless to pretend. Winter has arrived. I'm not excited. I don't usually hate the cold but everything makes me doubly grumpy because I will soon be sporting a small planet for a stomach. It's impossible to physically tell at the moment, but there's something about a mare's scent that changes when she's knocked up so I won't be surprised if my pregnancy is no secret. Won't Kush be surprised to be a big brother at his age? I catch sight of Demian, looking a bit haggard and worse for wear in the year that has passed. (I've been meaning to track him down since he became king, of course, but the flurry of a new reign isn't usually the time for serious discussions.) I lead Straia and Everdeen towards the stallion, and nicker a greeting. I should get points for being fucking pleasant. "Demian. You know Everdeen, I've been told. And this is Straia, Queen of the Chamber." Which, of course, he already knows. But I suppose protocol ought to be observed. "I believe she's interested in joining together with us for a bit of fun." I grin wickedly, imagining where this conversation could lead. I trust Demian to indulge in this opportunity. After all, he's doing an all right job, our usurper king. Although, granted, when has a ruler of the Valley not been an usurper? Rarely, I would think. I attained the throne from the edict of my brother and my successor received the throne in the same way, but such ascensions are rare. I've seen in some kingdoms that thrones are passed down through families but that would never work here. We are entirely too independent and volatile. No one should reign by virtue of blood. But no matter what anyone thinks, I don't dislike Demian. I admire his initiative and I don't want his throne. Not, unless, the Valley believes it should be mine. For now it is the winged jaguar boy's. Still, we can't have him thinking the natives are complacent, can we? G A L L O W S We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.