i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricaneShe has been somewhat absent as of late. Planning a war is rather difficult, and she finds that much of her time is occupied by spying out of the eyes of her ravens. She need to know what everyone else is planning, needs to know what secrets they are hiding. Their traits, their weaknesses. She can fight, certainly, but she’s far more useful at gaining knowledge, keeping the Chamber one step ahead of everyone else. Having an army of spies really does have its perks.
Today though, she is out and about in the kingdom. The ravens will report, and eventually watching and listening through their eyes and ears becomes a drain on her magic. She is not limitless, after all, and even she needs breaks. After all, she already maintains an army of magical ravens. That in and of itself is enough of a task.
The magical entity is growing well. It’s nearly as tall as the other pines in the kingdom, and she stops momentarily to admire it. It’s not her favorite tree in the kingdom. Her favorite is the one with the S carved into the bark, the one Weed left for her the first time he disappeared from the kingdom. But still, she must pay attention to the fiery entity. She’s rather tempted to slit her ankle and see what the tree might tell her. It seems strong enough to start becoming useful.
The raven that stands sentry (a fire raven, of course, so it can live in the tree), caws at the sight of her. She looks up with a bit of a grin before looking back to the tree. Of course the ravens would die for a sacrifice. Of course they would offer to bleed into the roots of the tree. She knows what the sentry is offering, but for now, she will not ask it of them. One day, it might be necessary. But not yet. Not today.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
