Nymhetamine was slightly Chamber drunk, a term he had begun using after long stints in the Chamber. The power, the slightly off hinge candor of it’s inhabitants, it all pulled at him. Pulled him into the heart of it’s dark and twisted core. He was enraptured. When he was here he slowly forgot about his double agent status. He forgot about Gates and their need for inside information to help their morally aligned fight. He tumbled slowly into the darkness, sinking into its clutches and part of him loved every moment of it. Part of him forgot about the lavender-eyed Keeva that he so adored. Part of him never wanted to leave. Chamber was oddly fitting of the necromancer, the darkness, the anger within him finding it’s niche in the shadows that lingered here. He had left for a while, traded information with gates, and had since returned; lingering in the shadows before going to meet with Killdare or Straia…or both. He had reunited with Keeva, and she pulled him out of the darkness reminded him of his morals- of why he took the dangerous path he was on. She was somewhere laying in wait in case he needed her, but he didn’t (at least not now), there was no danger.
The Necromancer moved in a sauntering manor, slowly taking in the activity. He had taken note of the normal faces about, and there was something different here. Snow melted away, but Chamber basically stayed the same, no the difference was with one of the others. The blood bay stopped and scanned, the invisible raven shifting upon his back. It always shifted, always pressed into his back, always watched his every move fore the Queen. He was annoyed with the bird, but he didn’t worry about it here in Chamber. His eyes snapped to the flash of color, there, she was new; she was different. The tall, lean stag moved forward, slinking towards the oddly colored fae. He didn’t know what to think of her but his chamber-drunk self was shaken sober for a moment. He would talk to her, he could think of worse ways to spend his time.
He held himself tall; he was a handsome thing, young, toned, quick witted as well as light footed. He was no muscly meathead but he was athletic just the same. He approached the ombred fae, allowing the forwardness of most half-crazy Chamber stags to become his persona. He was pressing into her space now, daring closer, eyes licking over her, drinking her in. (He may love Keeva, but he was a stallion. And stallions do as stallions do, and he was taking a chamber-fied approach.) ”You are new...you have a name?” Nymphetamine’s words purred out of him, dark and raspy. He didn’t quite dare to lean into her, but he could if he moved a few more inches over. He wanted to know what she knew, for more than one reason. Wanna play a game? He taunted her, voice dripping with sex and intrigue. He reached towards her right shoulder, just a few inches and nipped her softly, playfully. He wanted a reaction; he wanted to draw her in. Even though he held his mind clearly about getting information he was drunk on Chamber in all other aspects.
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain