between the shadows and the soul - any

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

She listens to Aurane, who seems less and interested and less than reverant. Something that, while Straia understands, she doesn’t necessarily like. To live in the Chamber is to believe in everything that the kingdom holds more than you believe in yourself. Your heart beat should match the beat of the heart beneath their feet (yes, there’s a literal heart of the Chamber). Your soul should burn as endlessly as the tree.

In the end, those that don’t feel this way, don’t last here. The Chamber asks for too much. It takes families and hearts and blood and souls. It takes everything, in the end, including your life. And to serve the kingdom, to make something of the kingdom (and through that, of yourself), you must be ready to give everything.

Aurane doesn’t strike Straia as such. Not yet, anyway. But perhaps she will grow and change in time. “Well then, welcome to the Chamber. And who, may I ask, brought you?” Of course, it’s not really quite so polite of a question. She’ll take the answer, either from the girl’s mouth or from a raven’s. It doesn’t really matter to her who tells her.

Shaytan steps forward, attention torn between Straia and the tree, though she’s bouncing side to side in anticipation. She wants to be the first. Badly, it seems. In truth, Straia wants to be the first, simply because she wants to know if a Queen’s blood can show more or if it’s the same as any other. But she can be second and still find this out. She may as well save herself for closer to the war, find out just what her blood can do then.

Besides, she really can’t take away the pleasure from Shaytan. “I’m curious to know, and I’d be happy if you did the honors, Shaytan.” She reaches out, nipping the mare pleasantly on the neck before stepping back, waiting to see just exactly would happen.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber