"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Finely tuned ears drink in everyone's words. I am one to listen, to stand and observe and quietly understand things. It was how I had learnt when I was even younger, nothing more than days old, I would stand beside my mother and listen to the world's woes, the tales that the lands had told, with scars and with well-angled lies here and there, to make the stories seem that much more unbelievable. I listen like that now, my ears perking to each in turn. I listen to Killdare, his baritone voice reminding me of the nightly hawk's calls, gruff and strong. I watch him curiously, I do not add anything, I am still a newcomer to the chamber -- even if the heart that beats within the earth beats alongside my own in a two-time crescendo, I am still unbiased or biased if one would think. I know not of customs, of other lands and potential allies, but I listen and absorb all the same.
Erebor is far older than his young face, he speaks with the wisdom of fine owls, and his eyes show a great deal of what he has seen in his winters passing. I admire him, like one can admire a well-adorned painting, from afar and with too little judgement and not enough criticism. My azure gaze then befalls the Queen, she is a statue amongst us, strong, imposing. I watch her, and listen. I listen to all and everyone until finally the air is free and my tongue is almost sizzling. 'I will gladly represent what will be a kingdom those dare to reckon with.' my eyes meet Straia's, true and honest as black magic weaves my tongue, my debonair smile. 'What use are allies, when they are weak? This competition offers a chance to weed out those kingdoms that are not as strong as they might think. Does the greatest pine tree grow like a sentinel, with spindly neighbours? No, it is a great forest standing together with the strong, those grown through adversary.' my prose is poetic at best, perhaps floral and mindless to some, but I meet each chamber member with an astute stare. 'The Chamber can show that, right? rising from the ashes, like it has shown to be doing already. I believe that this kingdom will be one most revered,' a long, deliberate pause, my eyes meeting the painted Queen's, before casting a fleeting glance to both Erebor and Killdare, both of which would get my meaning. 'I offer my allegiance, my heart to the worthy cause.'
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Drink the poison lightly, there are
deeper and darker things than you;
professor of the chamber
html by magpie77 - photo manip by beequeen - character by magpie77
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