Siberian is watching. He's watching, and frankly he isn't sure *what* it is that he is watching. As he follows along behind Nymph at a safe distance, he's worried that somehow one of the magicians who'd fought against the Chamber had done something to the other stallion. A befuddlement spell, perhaps, one designed to render the necromancer harmless in the event of a second attack. After all, you could hardly focus upon summoning the dead when you were consumed by the need to giggle incessantly and aimlessly wander. After a moment, he discards this theory. Had a magician done such, they would likely have targeted the entire kingdom for an easy takeover. The recently ended war had drawn many fighters on both sides. A proud grin graces his muzzle, equine at the moment, as he thought of how he had helped the rest of the Chamberlings to defend against the invaders. If they had expected a triumphant victory, they hadn't gotten it.
A stalemate was good enough to him, no foreign equine placed in power, no battle captives taken on either side. Killdare was king now, in the wake of the war's end and Straia's abdication. Life could get back to normal. But first, there was this to try and figure out. After several more minutes of observing the other stallion's strange behavior, the Budyonny decides that enough is enough. Aware of how Nymph is clearly not in his right mind (perhaps he'd eaten some bad clover!), he takes the precaution of shifting to his grizzly form before he tries a new tactic: moving up close to the blood bay instead of tailing him from a distance. He starts to speak, but quickly clamps his jaw shut before a Stupid Question can escape it. No, Nymph was clearly *not* alright. He tries again, this time having something better to say. "Nymphetamine, what's wrong? " Yes, that was the proper thing to ask. No verbal blunders here for him.
Siberian
The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna