Straia knows where Shaytan has been. At least as of recently, when she was given her power. She sent the ravens to find the girl, make sure she wasn’t dying in a ditch. She wasn’t. And after that, Straia left her alone, tasking the ravens to alert her should something bad ever happen to Shaytan. Not that she thought Shaytan wasn’t pretty capable of taking care of herself, but just in case.
Other than that, Straia doesn’t think anything of it. They come and go. Shaytan wasn’t bound to the Chamber. Though there’s some disappointment, of course, that the girl didn’t work out. Straia was rather found of her strange, spotted friend. It had been nice as well not being the only female in the Chamber (though now they had Engelsfors, as well).
The smell is familiar when it hits her. Shaytan. She knows even before the raven lands on her shoulder and tells her that the spotted creature has returned with a smaller black one. Conversing with ravens was always interesting. To them, horses were creatures, four-legged trees sometimes. They were never horses. But Straia knows exactly who they are referring to, and can only guess at the tiny black foal that must be with Shaytan.
Straia weaves through the pine forests until she finds them. Shaytan is a wash of fading colors, like Erebor, and Straia can’t help but laugh at bit. It was such a sight, those colors. Erebor looked like Christmas had puked on him, and Shaytan looked like a bleeding sky. Erebor was worse, but still, they were both hilarious. “Shaytan,” she says with a smile, no questions as to where the mare had been. That was for later, because she was curious for an explanation. But she didn’t demand it right away. “And who is this?”
straia
the raven queen of the chamber