There was a birch tree in the field; Nymph

[Nymphetamine]

The snow shifted under the light foot of the resident necromancer as he moved through the main clearing. Snow was his least favorite thing, but the bay's coat seemed to have granted him some form of reconciliation in the form of extra fluffy insulation. The trees around him were laden with snow and all it would take was a solid bump against their trunks to dislodge the frozen moisture from their lofted seats. Most of the vegetation was dead, as it was not an "ever," most foliage was not an evergreen nor an ever-burning magic tree. He was ready for winter to be over; He wanted the green back, Chamber was just nicer when it was green. The leading diplomat found it easier to hide from those who sought him out when it was a green season.

The thing with power was that it came with an audience, and an audience meant work, and Nymphetamine sometimes didn't want to help settle the silly debacles that some of the Chamber's residents found themselves in. Some were legitimate and others were petty, but they all required him to do work. Most of the time he loved to have a job, but like any other who was mostly required to be at the beckoning of others, he had moments he needed a break. He found it easy to take the break he needed while not abandoning his duties all together through the invisibility he was gifted. In the green months, he hid easier, no hoof prints in the snow, no condensed breath as the warm air was pushed from his lungs. Winter gave him away too easily.

This was on of those days, the necromancer had just settled multiple little circumstances (that the residents really should have been able to handle themselves) and he decided he had enough. The bay fashioned himself invisible and moved to the tree line where his breath was less obvious and his hoof falls less apparent. So when the snow gave way to his hooves, it was just a few ravens that Straia had left behind to report his break( to a Queen that no longer had the power to make him care). However, the snap of a branch nearby, and the lingering smell of fish and water meant the bear had returned to Chamber and was near.

The lad appeared in the clearing, that held a few others waiting for Nymphetamine's assistance, and while the bay would usually try and prank his close friend, one glance at the black stallion's expression told him this was not the time. Nymph took a step into the clearing and allowed the shield that was his invisibility to drop around him. As he did so the others in the clearing swiveled their attention to him and a few already called to him their issues. With ears pinned, he ordered them away, his attention was needed on a more serious matter, and to not return until the morning. Once the last bystander had left, the conjurer closed the distance between him and the bear-horse. His friend needed no prompting, his words fell with a complex mix of emotion seeded within his eyes. "My master is dead." The final phrase confused the bay stallion, though he knew that would have to wait a moment.

A puff of warm breath escaped his darkened tipped nostrils as he thought of the right words. They were simple and unemotional. A solid fixture of support if Siberian needed it. "I had heard rumors, he had done right by me, I am sorry to see him go as well...I didn't know you two were so close." His brows furrowed and his head tilted as he pondered further the master comment. "Sib, are you not your own master? I do not understand this." He knew that his friend was troubled by the death of the pale fighter from the war, but something did not add up. He did not mean to seem uninterested, or unsympathetic, he just needed to understand why the death had shaken the black lad so deeply.

Nymphetamine

cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain

ooc: it has been a little bit since I wrote nymph words, i'll get back into the swing.