between the shadows and the soul - birthing, any

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

Well well, what a family reunion this has become. They’re only missing Lu, and of course, Lu would never come. Not while Straia lived in this kingdom. The extent of her sister’s anger was astounding, truthfully, even to Straia. She had taken a few years too long to visit, but she had never abandoned the girl. Yes, she had also overthrown their father and all that, but she didn’t murder the bastard. That probably ought to count to sometime.

After all, the time, he had no powers. Straia imagines that the Chamber would have gladly accepted his blood.

Straia has simply come to accept her fate though. She’s always know that the Chamber would take and take and take from her. And she would always give. It would not take her life, not anymore, with the ravens constantly willing to give their own lives to restore hers. Instead, the Chamber took her family.

Maybe that’s why she had children now. They are the only family she has, though Erebor has been mostly absent after his quest. She’s never learned the details of what he went through, but to send her stoic son spiraling like that…she cannot really imagine what he went though. He was not an easily rattled child.

And Weaver? Well she had no idea what to except from the girl.

Straia gets to her feet when the stretch of death hits her. She knows all too well who that is, and she isn’t sure she’s pleased to see him. But she doesn’t fret overly much about it, instead letting Weaver make up her own mind. The girl scrunches her nose for a moment and then stops, amber eyes focusing on her corpse of a grandfather. “Father,” Straia says, her greeting cool and always. Once, she had dreamed of his love and affection. He had never given it, and eventually, she had stopped caring. Stopped expecting it.

She’d turned out better for it anyway.

Weaver starts to fidget, an obvious attempt to get her feet beneath her, though she, like any child, does not succeed right away. Straia doesn’t coo as the girl falls to the ground, but turns and gives her a small nod of encouragement. She’ll figure it out all on her own, but Weaver won’t learn a thing if Straia is always there to catch her. And then Kavi arrives, and for a moment Weaver settles, eyes on the colors blossoming on his feet.

Now she’s anxious, clearly, trying to get those feet beneath her. Straia can’t help but laugh slightly as Kavi greets her, tousling her mane. No one else gets away with that except Kavi. “Uncle,” she says pleasantly. He’d always been good to her, even when no one else had. “I believe you said I’d have a brood. I don’t see myself swimming in children yet.”

Though possibly, there would be another. How could she not leave the world with just a few children created by her and Weed. If they turned out as any combination of their parents, well, they’d be terribly magnificent.

The world might not agree, but that’s never bothered Straia.

At this point, Weaver’s on her feet. Unsteady, but up. Kavi’s coat is awash with color and the girl makes her way toward him, poking at his skin in interest. When she seems content with that, she turns to Rodrik, making her way toward him. Straia lets her, though she’s keeping her eye on the girl and really, her father at this point. Weaver doesn’t touch, clearly uncertain if he’s in fact touch-able. But she doesn’t shy away from him either. She starts walking around, examining his rotting flesh, stumbling a few times but mostly keeping her balance. Her head tilts as she gets back to his face, and then she finally retreats to her mother. Not necessarily scared, Straia thinks, but rather just done with her examination for now.

“She doesn’t seem to mind him,” Straia says with a grin to Kavi as Weaver figures out where the food is. “She might be the only one.”

straia

the raven queen of the chamber