They were so alike. Too alike, really. One would never tell the other just exactly what they felt. But did they need words? Or because they were so similar, did they simply know? She knows, or at least believes she knows. And Straia is not one to make snap judgment, to fall head over heels, or to think that someone else has done so for her. She is not ruled by emotion or hormones, but by her love for the Chamber and her sharp, clever mind.
But of course, that is what attracted her to him. His mind, that worked so much like hers. A sharp tongue and that vicious glint to his eyes, the desire for power not for the sake of power but for what could be done with it. Power is a tool, worthless in so many hands, and useful in others.
How could she not be attracted to her equivalent? And how could he not be attracted to her. Like magnets, they are drawn together. No matter how far they each run.
He doesn’t show any surprise, any reaction, to her as she lands on the ground. She would have been disappointed if he had. His grin, the raise of his lips, the slow drawl of his voice. These things she remembers. These things have not changed. “I am.” Her voice is still hers as well. Smoky and confident, not necessarily sultry, but in the right ears perhaps it is. “And I could.” But of course, it would always be Plant. She couldn’t imagine calling him anything else now.
He circles her like a predator. She stands, because she has never outwardly been a predator. But neither is she prey. She doesn’t shrink from the thorns, but lets them brush across her skin. They scratch the surface, but are not enough to draw blood. She considers leaning into him momentarily, pressing the thorns into her side. But she chooses to remain still, to let him circle. A raven comes to land on his back though, deftly moving itself around the vines.
She didn’t know if she missed him. Did it count, that he crept into her thoughts? She could have survived a lifetime without him and never thought anything of it. Except for the moments where he crept into her mind unbidden, as she weaved through the pine forests, in her visits to the Valley. Every time she walked into that kingdom, she saw him there. Staring out the empty, dying kingdom.
Yet, her life would not be worse off without him. It was simply better with him.
Yes, she supposed that counts as missing him. Not that she would ever tell him as much, just as he would never tell her. Neither one of them would ever give away the whole game. “I could say the same thing. But everyone misses me.” She grins, flicking her tail toward him. The black and white strands catch on the thorns, and she leaves it there, half stuck, half content.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber