i leave you my dust, and dry bones;

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

She cannot make anyone disappear. She can kill them, certainly. Order the ravens to dispose of the body. Yes, of course she can do these things. But anyone can kill. Anyone can dispose of a body. Someone had done that very thing to her mother. It doesn’t take magic to make someone disappear, in a sense.

But she cannot pop someone out of existence. She doesn’t even know that she would (except perhaps her father), just as she isn’t sure she would actually kill anyone. Let others kill? Yes, she does. After all, she leads the Chamber. But her hands, metaphorically, are rather clean. It’s rather lovely, overall.

The mare introduces herself, a quick flick of the tail. Annoyance at the magic? Or something more like Straia’s own playfulness? It’s hard to tell, truthfully. It seems as though it could be either, because at her question the mare smiles a bit. Just enough, and Straia grins back. She’s always liked others that cut to the chase. No point in pretending they don’t know why they are here.

“It is my home, and so I am biased, but it is beautiful. In a very untraditional sense of that word. Shadowed and misty, but it protects us that way. And in return, there is a collection of horses determined to make the Chamber great, whatever that might mean. We aren’t a family in the huggy sense, but I do promise there’s always someone who has your back. But since I am biased, I also offer that you can come and look around and try it out. No one is going to make you stay, if it isn’t for you.”

If nothing else, there were less flies and more ravens in the Chamber.  

straia

the raven queen of the chamber