Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones
A simple exchange, momentary and fleeting yet it changed everything. Mere minutes ticked slowly by the second, as the conversation switched from vocal to internal in such a fluid natural manor Nymph hardly noticed that the conversation was completely in his own mind. The summer sun beat down on the treetops and flickered in his eyes that seemed so distant, lost in some other space. Her words echoed in the depths of his mind, blending his thoughts with hers, blending past and present, and reality with wishes impossible to deliver. Chamber, Kildare, and a life once lived were dreams unattainable, but Violence had worked her trickery. The once and always Chamberling believed the whispered promises, and the last of the flickering ‘voice of self’ that told him of her fallacy was snuffed out in a wisp of smoke.
She dug into his mind, his memories and took hold of the last bit of kinship the russet stallion had and took full advantage. “Offspring,” she cooed, “Let’s go visit him, it could be glorious again.” The words bounced around filling the stallion with comfort and hope, but it wasn’t really his decision; the suggestion was more like a command. His slender head dipped in approval of the plan. His actions were no longer his own, and no one was the wiser-- save his puppeteer. Would the consequences be his own too? He turned away from the black mare, his lean frame oriented towards Tephra, and the volcano that hid his dear friend. He moved naturally, he didn’t resemble one that was not in control of himself. His mind was a cloud of echoed promises but his eyes showed hope and a brightness that hadn’t been there in recent years. Perhaps it was the hope in his heart that Offspring would want to join him on this journey. They could have their hearts back, those that were lost with the Reckoning.
NYMPHETAMINE
A rose in the rain