Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones [Sib]

[Nymphetamine]

 
 
Chamber was quiet again, the ash and debris from the burning, freezing, exploding, growing, and vanishing trees was finally settled on the ground leaving everything a wash of gray. Nymphetamine had (once again) found himself in a drunken stupor.  He always thought it was this haze that came over him when he lost himself in the draw of power, of succession, or ruling however with more time passing and with whispers of leadership changes the necromancer didn't feel like he would be rising to power anytime soon....so what was this haze that had him stumbling through the chamber?  Maybe it wasn't the power, maybe he just ate a bad plant, as there are plenty of oddities in this place. Or maybe it was some reaction to the slightly smokey air that circulated out away from the ever-burning tree that occasionally stung his lungs. But most likely it was a self-coping mechanism due to the whole Petya thing.  He hadn't asked for that child, not that he wasn't glad to meet any of his children. But it was something Harlet wanted. She, had propositioned him. She. She. She.

Stumbling, as Nymph forgot to pick up his hooves, he chuckled as if it were funny, but the reality was he was laughing at his situation. He had tried to do right. He hadn't come to Chamber because he thought it would fit him originally. It was all a trickery at first- infiltrate, gather, then double cross. But he found he liked Chamber better, that in the end chamber had his back. Where had Gates and Mast been when he needed them? More hiccupping giggles fell from him as he pulled himself away from narrowly missing a tree. (What. A. Mess.) So now he finds that as he continued being a generally good guy, especially for a Chamberling, he had been dropped a filly, after the mother who wanted her, who started that whole thing left. Well, he didn't know what to do, and after spending time with her, he needed to unwind..... and now he is in the state he is.

The stallion was not sure when it started or how long it would continue the zig-zag stumbling through the forest. But for now, he fumbled and bumbled and giggled like a a stoned off his ass fool...or wait... no, a drunk fool.  
 

SIX FEET DEEP IS THE INCISION, SUNSETTER

Nymphetamine