A New life, The old me [Nymph]

[Nymphetamine]

Winter was not the conjurer's season, his desert lines gave him thin skin and his coat never seemed to be enough.  The trip to the Tundra was a nice jump start to his fluffy coat, but not enough. So the brisk wind chilled him greatly and he shivered.  He watched the stallion closely not nervous by any means, but steady, ready to move away if need be. Though the spark that lit the stallion's eyes when he processed his jest told him there was no threat...or, at least, immediate threat.  The chilled are whisked the dappled grey's chuckle away and his words were hard to make out through the wind, but he thought he heard a return in jest.  Nymphetamine shook the settled snow from his sides and tossed the snow from him mane with a shake. His demeanour said indifference-- but it was just part of the ruse. "Yeah, I might know a few." He threw a sideways glance to the brute. He found that sarcasm was a fabulous test of character, it may not be conventional but it worked for him. "How many are you looking for? Anything particular you want in your home-sweet-home?"

The wind was too much for him, so he moved off towards the over of trees, he looked back at the brute and tossed his head in a "let's go" gesture. He figured the boy would come. There was no one else in the field right now and it was cold with the wind blowing so freely. He moved into the trees, and immediately took comfort in their insulated shelter. A deep sigh gave his relief away, though it would be no surprise that he was cold. Nymphetamine watched his breath dance through the air until it dissapated completely.  He eyed the young stallion, so far he was a nice enough fellow, but he was curious if he was a fit for Chamber, he needed to know more. "Tell me about yourself, what brought you here, yadda-yadda, you know... oh yeah I'm Nymphetamine, you got a name?  Or should I just call you Kidd?" It probably wouldn't matter now, he would most likely call him Kidd from now on, just like Killdare will always be Oldman, or a snarky-toned ' my Lord.'  It was just part of him, everyone needed a good nickname.

Nymphetamine

in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision