lupei
What the truth is, I can't say anymore
The heart beats for all of them. For Lupei, for Dacia, even for Lestrade. They cannot escape it and the fact of the matter is: they don’t want to. The Chamber is tied to Lupei’s blood, it flows in his veins and directs his life. Eventually, anyone would come to see that everything he’d done had been for her, the Chamber. Zojja and the boys posted in Volcanic Village, bringing Umqra here to watch her grow under his command, the whispering news that his sister had given birth to Killdare’s twins (an occasion he’d missed, causing his innards to twist into a guilty knot), all of it was to ensure the growth of his Kingdom. The Chamber’s influence would spread far and wide now.
There is, however, a loose end of sorts. Lestrade, the oddly colored colt-turned-stallion that had been under Lupei’s careful eye for some time now. Since that mare had ended up leaving him here, perhaps through no fault of her own but still doing it, he’d taken it upon himself to check in with the boy every now and then. He’s unsure why he can’t commit to the idea of being the young stallion’s sire: It’s obvious to anyone. That same mint green base coat, the same identifying features along the jawline, there - in the shape of the eyes. But it’s a nagging sort of discrimination he has against the kid. Lestrade seems … traitless.
He’d never witnessed the boy shift, never seen him call flame, never even hoped to find something out of the ordinary in his actions. So he’d spirited him away to the Falls and unceremoniously dumped him there. Always the good father, it would seem. Time slips on though and one thing Lupei understands clearly is revenge. If he couldn’t fix what he’d never begun to build with Lestrade starting now, he may come to regret it one day in his old age. Fate has a funny way of doing that to horses around here.
So he finds the boy by smell, tracking him down quickly since he’s chosen to stay near the edges of the kingdom. Always outside, never within the throng. He greets him horse-to-horse, a little changed since they last saw each other. The great, twisted tangles of Lupei’s mane and tail are gone, and his right shoulder sports new, permanent art. “Lestrade.” The elder brute calls, slipping past the shadows of a leaning pine, “You’re alright?”
