Run in the shadows [Killdare, Any]

[Dacia]

I can still hear you saying - 
you would never break the chain 

There’s a solidarity to Killdare when he pulls her close, something that surprisingly comforts her and seems to displace the fresh pain in her mind. He speaks, and his voice echoes against her own chest. "Yes …" She thinks, "His face." Dacia sees the horns, curved and wicked. She sees, sharply, every line of his golden face, remembers the way his hooves were split in two. Oh, she knows him and she knows him well. His face consumes her then, she knows it will occupy her thoughts and dreams forever until she sees him again. Dacia makes a promise to herself: the next time she did see that monstrosity, she would steal the last breath from his body.

Killdare’s mention of her brother Lupei snaps her from her thoughts, and her eyes dart around her, bringing her back to the present. “Lupei, of course.” she mutters, knowing full and well how her brother would react. Lupei is more her her twin rather than half-sibling. He would channel their mother's death into a rage that could not be contained. Dacia wouldn’t stop him either. Let the young wolf seek out his own means of revenge. Killdare speaks again, warning her not to stray far and Dacia smiles weakly in return. It’s all she can manage.

---------

When he returns Dacia is waiting for him, dressed in black and shrouded in stoic misery. ”He knows the truth then,” she thinks, “He knows what must be done.” Her gilded eyes trace the sharp edges to his face, a face she had never truly seen before this moment. Sorrow doesn’t suit the Chamber Lord, but anger certainly does. It burns between them now, this bloodlust, and like her mother before her Dacia shares something with the bay stallion. She moves forward to close the distance between them and her voice breaks the silence that had cloaked her since his departure. “I will see him suffer at my own hands, or I will die trying.” She promises.

Her nose, velvet black and comely, reaches out to stroke Killdare’s briefly. “Thank you.” She murmurs, because that’s all she can say. She saves her deep appreciation for the Stallion until the day she can bring her mother’s killers head to him with eyes still rolling. Until then, she’ll settle for this sort of interaction - and a new sense of admiration for the winged chamberling.

Dacia;

color-changing vixen of the chamber