no bite marks, no scratches | warship, any.

[Kimber]

sui domina et libera

A few months ago she had met Straia and for the hour or so she spoke with her, she liked her. Warship had pissed her off though, if she survived ha. What a cocky little shit he was (she's the kettle, I know) she had been left for dead at birth, she knew how to stay alive at all costs. Perhaps he didn't mean literally as much as figuratively speaking in kingdom life. Thus far she had mostly just studied the others in the army, their muscle tone and how they carried themselves. She was a rarity perhaps, most of them were rather quiet where she was mouthy. She assumes it comes from her mother because women are traditionally more chatty than men but she doesn't know her parents.

Kick grass over that shit and move on.

She finds Warship in the busy day of the Chamber, her body was starting to mature more into a warrior's body but her feminine qualities weren't fading quickly. She was indeed a pretty girl, a slender face and big doe eyes and quite hippy. Her chest has broadened, her neck thicker from the consistent running and resistance training in the rivers and lakes. Her legs strong from morning runs on the beach, necrotic tissue sometimes lingered on her fetlocks the days to come but she wasn't bothered. Death was just that, death and those who have passed on can't feel anymore.

"Looks like I'm doing just fine, surviving and all," she says a little calmer than usual, she has been disciplined some - mostly because it's hard to run and talk at the same time. "I think I'm supposed to ask you how you're doing or some shit but I just need social interaction. I looked for Straia but I figured I'd find her where you were. All work and no play makes Kimber a very sullen girl," she says quirkily, as if she knows what 'play' even means.

K I M B E R
immortal little shit of the chamber

[Kushiel]

Kushiel didn’t do well in his own company. He’d heard the saying, “never less alone then when alone,” and thought the person who said it must have had a very happy, very dull childhood. Kushiel tended do things he regretted when left to his own devices. Dramatic shows of bravado took on a morbid twist when your own two eyes were the only ones there to witness them. His pounding headache and scorched mane could testify to the morbid twists he had taken last night.

Like every night since his first in the Chamber, Kushiel had dreamt of fire. Whether those flames had truly been a dream was anyone’s guess. Sometimes they blurred together, the flames of his dreams and the fire of reality. Under the large yellow moon, beneath the Chamber’s enterally burning tree, it all looked the same.

Still, in a commendable show of social responsibly, Kushiel had passed out beneath that tree, rather than another. When he burned he made sure he did it with fire that wouldn’t spread. You couldn’t set an eternally burning tree on fire. That ship had long since sailed. As tolerate as Straia was, he didn’t think she would appreciate the ritual burning of her kingdom.

The large gray stallion, dappled with soot and ash, struggled to his feet. He was awake, ready, and of the opinion that the greatest show on earth needed an audience. He found it, or rather her, talking to Warship. He hadn’t met her, and that in itself, was reason enough to butt in. Really, it was just the friendly thing to do.

He heard the last snippets of her conversation as he came closer. He sidled up to her shoulder and grinned broadly and with familiarity.

“If I know Straia at all, I think she would decree that there are to be no sullen girls in this great kingdom.” Truth be told, he didn’t really know Straia all that well. He could, however, hazard a guess that she wouldn’t waste breath on such a decree. Kushiel would, however, and that was all that mattered. He continued magnanimously.

“In her absence, I’d be honored to help carry out her wishes.” Again, not her wishes. Still, surely she’d want her subjects to be nice to each other. That’s what Kushiel was doing, being very, very nice.

Kushiel

some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall

[Warship]

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

If she had thought for a moment that he had brought her here to be a father figure, then she would be sorely mistaken. He isn’t one to coddle and pet and coo encouraging words. He’d never lavished on his own children and he sure as shit wasn’t going to start on someone else’s product of a one night stand gone awry. He wouldn’t even have the first clue, having never been coddled himself. Maybe he could offer a certain amount of guidance, but honestly that was as far in depth as he went with children. She wasn’t a child per say, but she carried with her the annoying petulance of youth and wore it like a banner.

Their first meeting in the kingdom had wound up a show of teeth against flesh, so when she approaches he offers her little more than a smirk in welcome. Clearly, she hadn’t had her ass beaten enough as a child, otherwise she’d hold a little more restraint over that shiny silver tongue of hers. But no matter. Father figure he may not be, but an ass whipping was at the top of his list of specialties. He ran his eyes over her quickly, taking note at the sleek musculature developing where once there had been baby fat. Maybe she was learning discipline after all. Good for her. “I don’t remember asking, seeing as I’m not your father or your keeper in general. But that’s good. Surviving is always good. When you‘re doing better than just surviving, then I‘ll give a shit.” he said, cocking a hind leg and swishing his tail against his hocks. He wasn’t always so blunt, but she had a knack for getting under the edges of his skin. For whatever reason he himself had a knack for finding women who knew how to piss him off. It seemed to be an odd talent of his. Just as he was coming up with some smart ass response (tit for tat, and all that bullshit) another stallion approaches. He stank of burnt ash and smoke, and his name is maybe Kushiel. Warship is old, after all, and names often escape him. Either way, he remembers seeing him at the kingdom meeting. The other stallion speaks, and Warship can’t help but laugh. Clearly, he hasn’t met Kimber. “You could offer her a million things to do, and she’d still be sullen. By all means, play with her. But be careful, girls got claws that she isn‘t afraid to use.” he said with a wink in her direction, before flashing his teeth at her. This was mostly all done in fun, but it would do no good for him to grow complacent in her presence.

warship

[Kimber]

sui domina et libera

Kimber is not much for these speeches of grandeur, this isn't a press conference on 'how to stop codepency in children' but he sure used that opportunity, didn't he? "You know for preaching to me previously about manners, you sure have misplaced yours," she says in a matter-of-fact tone, followed by a haughty laugh, "I didn't know the poor bastard but I can assure you that you couldn't be my daddy even if you wanted to," although she is still as mouthy, she has reigned her mouth in somewhat to become more sarcastic than grossly obnoxious. It isn't long before their tiff has an audience, a Michael Jackson with the popcorn type of spectator. He's all too happy, charming even - perhaps Warship is right she's destined to be a sullen girl.

"Well Jesus H-Christ, man, are you a glutton for punishment or is that your cross to bare?" she says, looking to the soot and ash that crumbles off of him and indirectly, into her nostrils. Burnt hair is the worst smell, next to burning flesh. Check and check.  Well, maybe she hadn't changed as much as we could have hoped for. "I'm Kimber, he's not completely correct with his information. I'm not a sullen girl, I do smile...occasionally, but he is correct in the fact I have claws. I'm usually smiling when I'm using them," she says, that very smile curling on her black lips - her blue tail flicking across her hindquarters and tickling Warships.

"Say old man, if you're so worried about my claws...why don't you attempt to remove them?" she says challenging, "Or should I ask this gentleman to rise to the occasion?" She's not sure, perhaps her mock with a Valley man was not enough ass kicking for one week but maybe she just liked to rustle the old birds feathers. What could be possibly be doing anyway spare entertaining these two? "So are you going to tell me your name or would you like me to give you a nickname based on my unfiltered thoughts?"

K I M B E R
immortal little shit of the chamber

[Kushiel]

Kushiel, for his many faults, knew how to enjoy himself. He had been blessed with a high tolerance for bullshit and a low threshold for satisfaction. In other words, he could probably talk to a tree and find the conversation enjoyable.

Luckily, his new companions were a great deal more interesting than trees.

He watched Kimber and Warship’s exchange with a smirk. They seemed to have a bit of history, though he didn’t care enough to puzzle out what exactly. She wasn’t his daughter, so maybe some sort of strange protege? He shrugged it off and grinned, the devil dancing a merry two-step behind his eyes.

“Does she now?” He looked Kimber over with interest. It didn’t cross his mind that doing so would be rude. However, before he could say something, probably something lewd about how he enjoyed a woman with claws, the woman in question spoke. He laughed at her question and gave a toss of his head, bits of ash flying, and the distinct scent of smoke rising from the remaining strands.

“While I can’t in good conscious deny being a glutton, yes, this is my cross to bear.” His eyes twinkled a little in barely retained amusement.

“Though your sympathy makes the burden that much easier.” She hadn’t actually been sympathetic, but that’s all just technicalities really. Kushiel wasn’t about to let reality dictate his state of mind.

The two certainly had some history. If Kushiel didn’t know better, he would have thought he interrupted an argument between too salty fishwives. As it was, he was happy to listen, that is until he was dragged back into it. Kushiel couldn’t help it, he barked out a laugh at the thought of himself defending anyone’s honor.

“Hold up a second, princess. These hooves really aren’t made for manual labor. I’m more of a thinker, if you get my meaning.” Kushiel looked Warship up and down. No, he wasn’t about to attempt that for love or money, or even self respect. Kushiel had to draw the line somewhere, and that line was at exerting himself. It was unseemly really.

Besides, Kushiel knew how to spot immortality. His own mother was after all. He would bet the last remaining strands of his mane that Warship had been around a while. Aside from that, he was the commander. He shot the girl a confused expression. Who did she think he was? Even his own honor didn’t mean that much to him, much less anyone else's. But still, he was quite certain his life wasn’t in any immediate danger as long as he didn’t take any suggestions from his new friend.

“While I will most certainly respond to anything you choose to call me, most have settled for Kushiel.” Even that was a bit of a lie. He’s been called many things, and more often than not, it’s something other than his name. He looked between them again.

“Your reputation precedes you, Warship. But, who exactly are you, and what has poor Warship done to earn your disfavor? I’m sure he’s much aggrieved.” Kushiel was quite certain Warship was anything but aggrieved, but he did enjoy poking the bear with a stick. Poor old man, it must be very tiring, having to babysit the children.