± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
He had not witnessed their breaking, either of them but he might as well have. The tides had turned without his knowing though he should have expected it, should have seen the worst coming. And was it, the worst, truly? It could probably get far worse before it got better and that was the problem, they should all harden themselves for its coming. For the few moments he stands alone he reflects on the recent fight, not knowing that he had earned anything but instead lost what he had thus far gained. Bits of it, pieces but one needed all the pieces to proceed with the grand puzzle of things. Maybe he only thought he did, time would tell, soon enough they would all know one way or another their own true worth in the world. They would have to stand on their own feet from now on, and they best start making the best of it- that’s all that was left to do at this point.
He waits for them, knowing they would come, some of them and of course she would be there. She would and she is, leaking from the shadows and stepping into the dim light of the forest. The line of her swollen belly finds him first and he can only muster a small smile, though it brightens his otherwise soured face and gives light to the shadows that hang against his cheeks. Smiles don’t fix bullet holes though, and his wounds still cry red tears against his earthy skin. Never did he expect her to shy away from such afflictions, from blood or gore but it still surprises him when she leans in- presses herself into his shoulder. Many females would not, could not stomach the sight of battle and savagery, but she was savage in her own ways and he sighed in relief. She was good, too good for him at times he was sure, but he kept her anyhow, unable to bear the loss and too greedy to turn away from the careful strength of their love. Somehow two broken things made one whole thing, even if they both missed a few pieces here and there, were at a loss for all the corners but it didn’t matter.
If he could only ever keep an unfinished piece of her he would take it and be grateful. It was worth more than any finished product, any title or power or gift. "We've battled with the Deserts and their allies, and we've, I've lost more than parts of my dignity. There's no more Magic in me Malis, the heat of the earth. It's gone." Another sigh to end the sentence, face buried into her because the familiarity of that which had not been snatched from him was welcome.
The sigh subsides into the dark midnight of her skin, releasing his worries and weariness before another comes. Just the one so far, Nymphetamine, a loyal and consistent presence. The bay King turns his head, baring the mutilated flesh for all to see and looks on the blood bay with tired eyes. The man is welcome of course, even in this closeness, and Killdare would not shoo him away after he had spent himself for their Kingdom. After he had spent himself for naught and if anything Killdare should ask his forgiveness. He turns to say the words, admit his wrong doings but the sudden uneasy excitement floods him from the Chamber’s Governor. Something was not right and the hurried words to follow only fulfilled that thought as truth. Not only had he forfeited his gift, the thing that would help him, keep their world safe but he had forfeited Nymph’s as well. And the others, what of them?
The words only continue with their downward spiral as they leave the Necromancer, and he knows without asking the gifts have all left them. The tree, their tree, the Chamber’s tree was lost to them. A fire that was to be always, to be unending, had been snuffed, claimed and taken away by those with ethereal Magics. He could live without the magma, he could get by without his air force, without the assistance of empathy and invisibility. This though, this was unsettling and it put them all in an exposed position. “We will come and see, this is not good, if we have lost the tree then I fear we still have much to lose.” It was then that he turned his head once more to Malis, worry taking the crows feet at the edges of his eyes before he could hide the emotion. They were in for trouble if they were not careful, something told him deep down that they were not as safe as they once were.
He waits for them, knowing they would come, some of them and of course she would be there. She would and she is, leaking from the shadows and stepping into the dim light of the forest. The line of her swollen belly finds him first and he can only muster a small smile, though it brightens his otherwise soured face and gives light to the shadows that hang against his cheeks. Smiles don’t fix bullet holes though, and his wounds still cry red tears against his earthy skin. Never did he expect her to shy away from such afflictions, from blood or gore but it still surprises him when she leans in- presses herself into his shoulder. Many females would not, could not stomach the sight of battle and savagery, but she was savage in her own ways and he sighed in relief. She was good, too good for him at times he was sure, but he kept her anyhow, unable to bear the loss and too greedy to turn away from the careful strength of their love. Somehow two broken things made one whole thing, even if they both missed a few pieces here and there, were at a loss for all the corners but it didn’t matter.
If he could only ever keep an unfinished piece of her he would take it and be grateful. It was worth more than any finished product, any title or power or gift. "We've battled with the Deserts and their allies, and we've, I've lost more than parts of my dignity. There's no more Magic in me Malis, the heat of the earth. It's gone." Another sigh to end the sentence, face buried into her because the familiarity of that which had not been snatched from him was welcome.
The sigh subsides into the dark midnight of her skin, releasing his worries and weariness before another comes. Just the one so far, Nymphetamine, a loyal and consistent presence. The bay King turns his head, baring the mutilated flesh for all to see and looks on the blood bay with tired eyes. The man is welcome of course, even in this closeness, and Killdare would not shoo him away after he had spent himself for their Kingdom. After he had spent himself for naught and if anything Killdare should ask his forgiveness. He turns to say the words, admit his wrong doings but the sudden uneasy excitement floods him from the Chamber’s Governor. Something was not right and the hurried words to follow only fulfilled that thought as truth. Not only had he forfeited his gift, the thing that would help him, keep their world safe but he had forfeited Nymph’s as well. And the others, what of them?
The words only continue with their downward spiral as they leave the Necromancer, and he knows without asking the gifts have all left them. The tree, their tree, the Chamber’s tree was lost to them. A fire that was to be always, to be unending, had been snuffed, claimed and taken away by those with ethereal Magics. He could live without the magma, he could get by without his air force, without the assistance of empathy and invisibility. This though, this was unsettling and it put them all in an exposed position. “We will come and see, this is not good, if we have lost the tree then I fear we still have much to lose.” It was then that he turned his head once more to Malis, worry taking the crows feet at the edges of his eyes before he could hide the emotion. They were in for trouble if they were not careful, something told him deep down that they were not as safe as they once were.
KILLDARE
King of the Chamber
