08-21-2015, 05:47 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-21-2015, 07:44 PM by Kushiel.)
OOC: FYI Kushiel is under new management, I was lucky enough to get him off PMP. So don't be surprised by any sudden/bizarre character shifts.
 His mane had been singed off, like some burned snake weaving its way down his neck. For days he had sported a blazing crest of fire from his ears to the nape of his neck. But the bloody things had kept him awake, the little tufts of flame he had knitted together to make something beautiful. No one could sleep through their glorious burning. So, Kushiel had passed out this morning, nearly collapsed from exhaustion. When he woke up his flame had gone, leaving the smoking wreckage of his mane where there had once been fire.
The rest of him would not burn, but he must keep the flame away from his tail.
Kush had not been born with the capacity for shame, or at least that’s what he had been told. It was hard to be embarrassed when you literally burned with the intensity and heat of fire. His appearance did not bother him, but the sense of loss was harder to bear. With his flames extinguished he could feel the tree calling him. The bloody Chamber Tree, in all its glory. The nearest fire wanted him, needed him, and he wanted it. He wanted to roll in it, lay in it, soak up the fire until it ran from his eyes…
With a start he shook the junkie look from his eye and moved away from the Chamber’s burning tree. He didn’t need any more flame right now. He needed something else. Food perhaps? Water, most definitely. Sleep, by the angels yes. Yet it was the flame he wanted. With some effort he swallowed his desire. He didn’t do it often, but he could deny himself.
The steely, dapple gray of his coat matched the sky, and the mist that always haunted the chamber. Kushiel breathed in the wet air. Once autumn had surrendered body and soul to winter, he would be in a right foul mood. The rain drops that hit him would sputter and hiss, as if he were the demon and they innocent bystanders.
Another month at least? He had lost track of the days. For now at least the sky was merely gloomy. To that Kushiel could relate.
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
even a n g e l s fall There were shadows, dark, inky tendrils that wove about my limbs, caressed my body with the filigree of velvet dark. There were the trees, their course umbra dense and unattainable; only through perseverance could one navigate the chamber's pines. Now, now there was burning, Crimson and orange flame. Both in the boughs, and now, very much a shifting across the loam, a dazzle of flame.
My son had told me if the new arrival, the burning man, the man of fire and of flame. Vercingetorix had said he was interesting, and yet strangely alluring. I briefly saw him at the meeting, one could not miss the burning. And I quite thought the scent of ash and fire had abandoned the chamber; yet now with the burning tree and a new arrival, I don't think my golden coat will retain the luminous lustre again.
I see him, through the break in the pines; his flame translucent against the shadow, sapphire eyes quietly observe, a smooth smirk delicately twisting on my lips. He was indeed a sight, an allure all on his own. I allowed my golden form to shift, enticingly weaving about the pines, as I break out from the darkness, aglow of gilt and cream.
'I see that the rumour is true, the Chamber has her own burning man.' my tone is darkly delightful, smooth like lace and velvet. Weaving my own dark magic with a silver tongue.
'Does this burning man have a name?' I ask, tone lilting and sultry. My silvery son had failed in that department, he had much to learn in the ways of silver and gold. Though I am quite certain the young lad will carry on his fathers hoof prints.
'I am Engelsfors.' smoothly my creamy tresses dance across my neck as I elegantly weave a path around the fiery man, sapphire eyes roaming his frame, a close scrutiny. 'Does it hurt at all. The flame?' because questions meant learning, questions meant answers. And answers were power.
engelsfors
advisor of the chamber
Kushiel’s ability to indulge himself was stuff of legends. Really something to be proud of. In life and love, in body and spirit, Kush had decided that where a little was good, more was better. When in motion he would stay in motion until he burned himself up in his very literal flame. When at rest, he would sulk like a bear with a thorn in its paw, like a queen when the king was up her maid’s skirt, and like a general when his army were in their cups.
Today Kushiel was sulking. He had awoken with a burned up mane and a pounding headache. As much as he would like to, he had learned the hard way never to chase a hangover with more fire. He would just have to wait it out, rest a little, at least until the scorched stink left his mane. He had resigned himself to writing the day off as mundane. He’d already pulled out his mental list of wasted days and put this one at the very top.
Until he saw gold glinting in the trees.
Kushiel smiled lazily. So there was still some mercy left in the world. Karma had not yet written him off as an unrepentant debtor. Where had she come from? Surely, he was not so far gone that he no longer noticed another’s approach? He didn’t much care, and as he usually did, decided not to worry about it. He was already chuckling, a low rumble that started in his chest and gurgled forth, low, long and lazy.
“Already rumors? I can’t seem to escape them.” Kushiel paused over his next words, a little bit taken by his own wit.
“I guess where there’s smoke there’s fire.” Oh yes, he was funny. Damn, did he make himself laugh. Not that he would laugh allowed, he wasn’t that bad, not yet. Kushiel, always first to admire himself, turned to admire her. All gold and glinting, sultry and smooth. His smile tugged a little at the corners, for all his efforts he was not entirely indifferent. He liked women, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He would be going to hell, and he wanted to make sure his punishment would be well, well deserved by the time he got there.
“Engelsfors.” He tried the name on his tongue, and liked the way it tasted. It rolled and roiled, then slipped down his throat like oil. He smiled again, yes, her name was rather much like her.
“I’m Kushiel, though I’m surprised the rumors haven’t told you.” If truth were to be told, and it wasn’t, he knew who she was, though he much preferred their meeting now. He had seen her at the meeting, had seen everyone, but oh how tedious it all seemed, how everyone seemed, when in an officially capacity. No, this was much better. She twisted around him, and Kushiel’s sly smile split into a grin, the devil peering out between his teeth. He didn’t even care if she saw it. The woman deserved something for her efforts, and by the angel they were appreciated. Her creamy mane sliped across her neck and Kushiel bit back a groan. He wanted to bite that neck.
Instead he bit his tongue. He would make a fool of himself. What had she said? Something about his fire?
He pulled some from the tree towards him. He had said he wouldn’t, but perhaps the flame could burn for him so he wouldn’t burn for her. Any even trade. He felt in control again, and his smile turned lazy, though the devil still danced somewhere in his eye.
“No, it doesn’t hurt.” He watched her for another second, then said what was waiting on his lips, light and glib.
“Except when I wish it too.” He flashed her his smile, and made no mention of the times he didn’t wish it too and it did anyways. It hadn’t hurt when he burned his mane, not exactly, he had just been too tired to stop it, to hold the flame any longer on no rest. It had been an error. He had been drunk with the availability. He couldn’t create the fire, but in the Chamber he would never need to, not when there was a tree that burned eternal.
His mind turned back to Engelsfors, and let her pleasing image be the balm to his self-deprecation. She needn’t know what a service she was performing.
“Tell me” he asked smoothly "how long would it have been before I saw you? Had you not so kindly stepped in front of me?” No he hadn’t forgotten. Something fishy was going on here. What had Straia said about her at the meeting?
Damn it. He should try to listen when people spoke to him.
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
ooc: ew excuse icky post -_-
even a n g e l s fall There is much about the chamber that spins an alluring spell. The way the inky shadows drape around, like s fine filigree against my good skin. The way the forgotten ash marks the ground, scarred with memories we least forget. Memories of pain, of something quite unforgettable indeed. I can only reminisce alongside the thrum of Atrox's heart. The way the gentle thud kills me to sleep (if only for a few hours, for I was a nocturnal creature, and a creature that thrives on little or no sleep.) the way it acts like some ticking clock, making few remember that there is an end, and a beginning.
Fire is so unlike shadow, it flickers and roars, dulls and ignites. Fire burns in and around, with both passion and rage. Kushiel, he piques interest like the flames flicker and glow orange. My words are charm and poise. gentle yet course. 'My son was quite intrigued by your.. Uniqueness. And he tells me quite a lot.' I pause here and add with a smooth chuckle, 'But you cannot escape the Ravens, they seem concerned that their home will burn. But you are not foolish as to burn something down that opens arms to you... You do not seem like such. But as always appearances are deceiving.'
I listen, lobes flickering atop my crown. 'I expect that every once in a while, a good singe never harmed..' the chuckle that slips my lips is both allure and whimsy. 'Ah, it would not be long. As they say, there are eyes and ears everywhere. And I do not let a mere stranger this close to the heart of my home.' I watch him, sapphire eyes glistening against the shadows and light, burning against the flicker of his flame.
'Why are you here, Kushiel? Everyone has reasons. What is yours?' black magic and silvery words are woven from my lips like masterful hands knitting tapestry. I stalk forward and around, long, willowy limbs slinking against the loam. Sloping shoulders rolling with each purposeful and graceful stride.
'Power, meaning, lust... There are wants and there are sins and mostly, they are often the same...'
engelsfors
advisor of the chamber
08-22-2015, 07:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-22-2015, 08:15 PM by Kushiel.)
OOC: Lies! I liked your post very much.
A kid huh? Kushiel watched her for a long time. Measuring the perfection of her golden hide, the intelligent spark to her words. He would not have assumed she had a child, but it made her no less alluring. If anything…
Damn it. The good ones were always taken. He considered this for a moment. She didn’t seem like the type who could be taken. At least, not because someone told her how a mother should be. Kushiel grinned, no, she didn’t seem like that type at all.
Despite all odds, he liked kids. Their juvenility spoke to something deep within him. Something curious and reckless. Something wild and undeveloped. He liked the potential in them, though he had no children of his own.
“I would like to meet your son.”
And he truly meant it. The boy would be quite a sight if he was anything like his mother. As for that bastard father of his…Kushiel sighed inwardly, he’d like to meet him too, if only to see what a stallion had to do to lure in a woman like this.
As for the ravens, Kushiel was not so sold on them. Nosy little things weren’t they? One had kept him awake last night, cawing and scratching. It was like she said, it was probably worried he would burn its roost to the ground. It wasn’t entirely impossible, though very remote. Kushiel’s fire burned for him, not for the world at large. When he was done with it the flame usually just disappeared.
“I hate to break it to the ravens, but this tree is more of a fire hazard than I’ll ever be.” This much was true, though it was a glorious thing. Had the Chamber’s queen been an utter fool, and she certainly was not, Kushiel would probably stay just for this tree. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was rather benign without a fire source at this disposal. But, boy was this a fire source. Kushiel felt his body respond to it, like a lover might to his woman. Once again he shook his head, trying to clear the seductive smoke from his mind. He turned his attention back to her.
“Fear not, Engelsfors, I’ve never burned open arms.” He smiled lazily at her, letting his words hang in the air. Truth be told, he didn’t much care about the Chamber’s arms. They were dirt and mud, for all its strangely beating heart. Her arms, however, were flesh and bone, and something else entirely.
Kushiel could see how her sapphire eyes might be unnerving, but he did not find them so. He stared into them, trying to see the shadows that played at their back. She wanted to know why he was here, but that would be a problem, for Kushiel didn’t really know himself. He was open to any ideas, but he hadn’t found one that seemed likely. A few moments later he answered slowly, and perhaps for the first time in their meeting, they were nothing more than sincere.
“Does there need to be a reason? If so, your guess is as good as mine.” He paused, and for the briefest moment his bravado was gone, replaced by something that could almost be vulnerable. Almost.
“My mother, Gallows, she lives for the Valley. Its mud slushes through her veins like blood does a normal persons.”He chuckled a little, unsure why he would tell her any of this, and if she would care.
“Her home is not in my blood. I would like to find a place that is.” This confession, it startled him because it was true. It was one of the few honest things he had ever said in his entire accursed, indulged life. He hoped, somehow, against all odds, that Engelsfors could appreciate this moment for the momentous occasion that it was. He smiled at her again, but this time it was lopsided.
“Is that a good enough reason?”
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
even a n g e l s fall My son is the moon, the stars and the sun. To me, he is perfect. He was born of earth and of gold, of silver and of steel. Vercingetorix was my everything and he will be everything. I whispered the secrets of all that I know in his ear as a babe, resting his head against my side. Whilst Killdare would tell him of warrior tales, I would soothe his young head to sleep. He was much older, too old for that now. I would see him flitting around the chamber, his eyes burning as bright as the flaming tree. Oh, he had such promise and it swelled my insides with pride when others spoke of him. After all, when you have created something, there is that ounce of pride that radiates from you.
Kushiel was a mystery. He seemed bright, as passionate and as fiery as the flame he dons, and yet, yet beyond the steel of his coat, he was something else entirely. I listen, as always, with attuned ears and a silent tongue. I listen until he stops and his grin matches the burning in his eyes. 'I believe that the chamber has suffered enough burns, to last her lifetime.' my tone is wistful as it is woven magic. Cool, crisp. I steadily parade about him, all gold and cream, all gossamer threads bouncing against my strong, yet lithe neck. Sapphire eyes like gemstones, finely polished like the silver of my tongue, they watch him with as much intensity as I study the fire in the boughs. 'Ah, if there is mud in her veins and fire in yours, I can see why you are here and not there.' I pause then, twiddling ears gently shifting, lost within the creamy mounds of mane. 'The Chamber is of ash and of ruin. Of earth and of flame. We burn bright against the shadows, and if you ask anyone else, they will say the same. The Chamber is a force, all of her own and she has a strange way of... claiming individuals.' my words slip like delicate lace, folded over and over again. A brilliant seamstress that wields the black magic like silk and satin.
'We are all honest here, Kushiel. And I, I have no time for liars.' my voice is silken smooth as I drape myself around, limbs loose and limber as they stalk a want circle about the burning boy. Tilting my head in such a way, my sapphire eyes linger on parts of him more than others, but not so much as interested in anything else, bar the flame. It glows, it flickers, truly alive. I chuckle then, such a smooth sound. An angelic face, cherubic and soft, but as my mother, my father and any in my past had found out, even angels do fall. 'We are all stripped down to the core here, dear Kushiel. The Chamber finds your wick and burns you, right to your very beating heart... She knows if you are not as true as you think or say. But you, oh you, you are as honest as the moon in the sky and the stars that prick the night.' I had given my heart, lost it to part the Chamber and part Killdare. He is my earth, the shadow that drapes me at night and the sunlight that warms me in the day. I do not question anything with him and he, he should never question anything with me. This, this boy, Kushiel. the burning one. He piques my interest like some new toy, and I have not played with none for quite some time now. The feel quite tempts my fancy. 'Oh, and I appreciate honesty, so very much.'
engelsfors
advisor of the chamber
Kushiel watched her with eyes that were very bright. When he felt like this he usually reached for flame and let it rage until all that was left were his own hazy thoughts, tried and satiated. He didn’t do that now, he let the feeling build, releasing it in bursts of sparkling eyes and wickedly flashing teeth.
He felt like a wolf, but he wasn’t sure if she was the rabbit or the lion.
And he didn’t much care. He wouldn’t mind if he jumped on a rabbit only for it to turn into a lion. It would serve him right in any case. It was more fun hunting something that could hunt you back. In this instance, Kushiel was quite sure that, should she turn on him, she would do a much finer job of bringing him down than he could.
She seemed very much the predator, for of Kushiel’s hungry looks.
Kushiel had always known he had this side to him, this burning, predatory glee. He sometimes wondered if his lazy, drawling discourtesy was just a mask for this…whatever this was. Certainly in this moment the fire felt like the only reality, the rest of him just a somewhat socially acceptable, if altogether impolite mask.
“How will I know?” He asks slowly, articulately, as if he was saying one thing, but hoping she would gather some other meaning. “When she claims me?” He smirked as he caught and held her sapphire eyes.
As if she could sense all that he is and has ever been, she spoke of liars. Kushiel’s smirk turned a little wistful, a little wanton. Ah. Well. It wasn’t that he lied, he just wasn’t honest. There was a big difference. He would never say something that was untrue, but what he didn’t say was the important thing. What he should be saying instead. Kushiel was very loud, very bold, people didn’t usually stop and wonder about what it was he was directing their attention away from. As if he was illustrating his thoughts to himself, he answered.
“I think you’ll find that my truth is much worse than my fiction. You may come to prefer the latter.”
People usually pretended to be better than they were. Whether that’s what Kushiel did was up for debate. You couldn’t really be sure.
He certainly could be, much, much worse than he was.
It all depended on your priorities. He continued, smiling softly.
“If it is truly honesty you want to hear than you are a braver woman than I am a man. Though, I will tell you the truth of whatever you wish to hear.” That at least was true. Kushiel didn’t have secrets. He wasn’t discreet enough to keep them, and he had grown up thinking thoughts that may as well been spoken aloud.
He would tell her whatever truth he wished to hear, and perhaps if she asked just the right questions it would be honest as well.
After all, the truth was just another form of misdirection.
Kushiel some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall
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