"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
And so they come, an odd ensemble but a dangerous one at that. The sky is lit with a fiery red tinge, a fitting sunset. It bathes the Gates in a light rosy hue that is beautiful to most. Not to him. The Chamber ghost leads his motley crew into the kingdom and it’s as quiet as it usually is. The silence wouldn’t last for much longer. His crimson eyes glitter with anticipation, the angelic wings at his back unfurled in all their glory. This is suppose to be Heaven right? Well here is one of your fallen angels, coming back to the nest.
The raven on his shoulder is tense, it’s claws digging sharply into his flesh as it awaits it’s masters call. Another raven joins them but this one is different. It’s wings flicker with flames and it follows the command of the dappled stallion behind him whose own flames spark about it’s mane. They have crossed the border and show no signs of stopping. No, for they are here with a purpose. It’s only when they come to the Mother Tree and it’s bountiful garden that he finally halts. He sneers in disgust as he looks over the low branches and it’s thick trunk. With a shrug of his shoulder, he looks to Kushiel and Weed. ”You know what to do.”
Turning his back on them, he looks to the others. ”Find her.” He snarls and they will know of who he speaks. His beautiful little reptile girl will force her to come regardless if she wants to or not. It was a choice of life or death really and surely she would choose life. They usually did, always pleading for it. His shadow raven leaves it’s perch, taking flight to help them seek her out. Once the smoke begins to rise, it will draw them all out. The few that lingered here that is. He paces in front of the stallions as they do their dirty work, ready for the fun to begin. "Come out come out wherever you are..." He calls out in a sing song voice which follows into a cruel booming laugh, one that rumbles from deep in his chest. Oh this was going to be fun.
Weed loathes this. He loathes following the red-eyed stallion amongst the group, loathes the idea of working with others. The whole notion of it makes his skin crawl and if it wasn’t for his smoldering hatred of the Gates and the once smug-smiled Queen, he would have turned down the offer at once. But, and this was a big but, he did hate them. He hated that tree that had undermined what would have otherwise been a seamless performance. He hated the little brat who had sidled up to Kaelie in defense and he hated him even more now that he was now King of this rotten place. It all deserved to burn.
So he lifts his lip into a barely concealed snarl and joins the group of them, distancing himself by a few paces as they enter the kingdom, his coal-eyes flashing with dark pleasure as the red of the sky. Not that he particularly liked to watch plants shrivel and die in flames, but he certainly wasn’t a bleeding heart about it. The plants were nothing but a tool to be wielded—a means to an end. And, in this case, there were simply some that just needed to meet their end. He was happy to help facilitate that.
Slinking toward the once grand mother tree, he cannot help but laugh—the sound elegant and chilling as it floated across the kingdom’s too still air. “Not so powerful now, are you?” Then, without waiting to see what the others were doing, he closed his eyes and felt his magic dig deep into the earth, pushing greedily for the end of it. He shivered with enjoyment, sweat beginning to sicken his neck in concentration as he felt the tendrils of magic wrapped around the roots. “C’mon, bitch.” Sighing, he felt himself wrap around the base of it and then sinking into it—acquainting himself with the entirety of the tree.
For a moment, he thought it was a pity that something this strong had to die.
But it was quickly lost in the pleasure of being the one to kill it.
He, however, did not simply pull the tree from its roots. Instead, he manipulated an early death into its veins, the poison of it crawling up the roots and through its massive trunk and shooting out to its branches so that the leaves of it began to wither and then fall. The once strong bark began to darken and crack, the symptoms of death clearly marked in the drooping of its mass. Finally, when he was pleased with the death that he had wrought on the tree, the beauty sapped from it, he looked to the fire warmongers and he just nodded at them. “Now burn it to the ground.” They would not leave even the grave for the Gates to mourn.
09-22-2015, 02:04 AM (This post was last modified: 09-22-2015, 02:16 AM by Kushiel.)
Under waning sun, beneath a blush pink sky, Kushiel wasn’t carrying fire he was fire itself. He felt it behind his eyes, down his throat, pouring from his nose in a torrent of red and yellow. Occasionally, when he grinned, you could see sparks of blue between his teeth. Some men, it was said, just liked to watch the world burn. Tonight, Kushiel was one of those men.
And oh, did it feel good.
Never in his life had he carried such fire, but never before had he such a source. Straia’s fire raven circled his head and he drank deeply from it, pulling flame until he could hardly see the Gates through his crown of smoke and fire.
Not for the first time, he was glad Gryffen wasn’t one for long winded speeches. He was content to turn his soldiers loose. With a vicious grin, Kushiel surged around the Chamber’s wolf and ran for the his target, the mother tree and its surrounding garden. To burn something so perfect, so pure, it caused a shiver to race down his spine. Kushiel snarled as flame began to leak into his brain. He felt like his blood would boil, like his eyes would run from their sockets. He needed to release the flame, or else be reduced to ash. He cast a snarling look at Weed, far from his normal, sarcastic smile. The other man needed to move, or else go up with the tree. Kushiel didn't stop to admire Weed's work, though it was impressive, he just pushed passed him when he had finished.
With a dramatic roar Kushiel exhaled.
Even he wasn’t prepared for the inferno that leapt up around him. It just kept coming. More and more flame thundered through the garden and snaked up the tree. It was limitless, a bottomless well of destruction. And it was all thanks to the raven. Kushiel looked at it, almost tenderly, and the bird flapped its flaming wings. All his life Kushiel had to settle with manipulating fire, but now, now he had a little helper.
The stallion laughed and pulled more flame from the bird. Together he and raven twined the flame round and around, lighting up the night like it was day. Their own twisted maypole. Maybe, maybe if he was really, really lucky, grouchy old Weed would dance with him.
Kushiel laughed again. Come out little queen, and see what the Chamber has brought you. They’re painting your roses red.
From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
Not so long ago, Kronk had longed for the chance to prove himself. He had yearned for experience, for training, for the bond between soldiers who stood together on the battlefield. Soon after that he had let his guard down. He had been lulled by the beauty of the Gates, and the serene tranquility of the garden.
Now, Kronk felt like a fool.
He smelled the smoke before he saw the flames, but soon great tongues of fire lapped at the sky. Kronk had been half awake when they first came. He had been watching the sunset with a dreamy, contented look on his face. All that had changed quickly, and now he was racing towards the blaze, breath held in anticipation of what he would find.
“Find their majesties!” He screamed to anyone who would listen. He didn’t care what was happening. Step one was the secure the royal family, step two was to handle whatever may come. Unfortunately, as far as Kronk knew, he made up fully half of the Gate’s army.
He now realized how woefully, shamefully unprepared they were.
Kronk crested a hill and saw the attackers. Not many of them, but already the damage would forever scar his home. Kronk could have dropped to his knees in front of the inferno that had been the mother tree. Instead, he launched himself at their leader.
The white one, the white one with the red eyes. He was giving commands.
Kronk bared his teeth and leapt at the other stallion. He would rip his wings from his back for this. He would reclaim those angelic wings and bury them beneath the rubble of the Mother Tree. Let him see the darker side of the Gates.
For whatever reason (she doesn’t particularly care, she probably would have trailed along anyway), they let her come, perhaps thinking that at the very least the freak will add to their number and can do them no harm. And in that vein of thought, they’re mostly correct; the worst Shaytan could do would be to get herself captured, or maybe even die. The best would be to actually help in some fashion. If she an avoid getting sidetracked by the bunnies.
Always the bunnies. The bunnies will always win. There’s something about the way those beady eyes eyes grow wide and dark in terror, the way they scream in pain when she begins to crush their little furry bodies. And then the way the blood pools beneath her hooves is just… fascinating. Oooh, her eyes could roll back in her head just thinking about it. Last time she was here (how long ago was that with Erebor?) she left a mini massacre in her wake.
Now isn’t really the right time. But a girl’s gotta indulge a little.
And she’s been so good lately.
The group arrives at the edge of the Gates, and with Shaytan in the back, she simply slinks away to the tall grasses where they were found before. These bunnies are unafraid. They hop eagerly around her legs, and it doesn’t take her long to catch one and messily dispatch of it.
Oh god, that was too easy. Here is where she will come from now on, to get her bloody fix. She will slink in and slink out and it will be easy and perfect and no one will ever know.
Bunny blood once against staining her bay freckled (now slightly graying) lips, she returns to the rest of the group to find them already in the midst of things. Oh yeah.They were here to do a thing, and that was definitely the smell of smoke in the air. Shaytan misses all the orders, but it doesn’t really matter, because none of them were for her. A quick glance around sees a lone defender hurtling towards Gryffen, and while she doesn’t particularly like the red-eyed fiend, they are on the same team. So Shaytan, with her awkwardly big half Spanish-Norman body and absolutely no battle experience whatsoever, launches herself perpendicularly at the Gates man. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she’s somewhat large and has blood smeared across her mouth and is pretty much just a reckless wrecking ball headed straight for Kronk.
Today has started like any other day, the sun went up, surely later the sun would go down. If I can expect anything from the Gates it is routine, every day the same, always. I'm with my Mother on the far side of the Kingdom, standing around as she eats. Was she always pregnant? Could she just not keep herself to..herself? She wanted love in all the wrong places, anything to maybe find someone that would return those feelings. I feel sorry for her, to be so concerned with loving someone else that you don't really love yourself first. My siblings play, jumping across the drying autumn grasses, for them I can smile. A little.
It is luck maybe, that they roll around so much, causing me to shift my stance and direct my attentions farther east. My hearing is all but gone, only faintly do I catch a word here or there. My eyes though, they make up for what my ears miss, today that is a blessing. I pause, my ears becoming rigid and moving forward out of habit. My nostrils grow wide, I see someone I do not wish to see here. A glimpse of white before it dives to the earth, Wings now?! I yell to myself trying to move quickly.
"Mother, mother!" I shout, I am always shouting, I can not judge the volume with which I speak. I brush her side, shoving my muzzle in her face before I turn my eyes skyward. Smoke is rolling just over the treeline now, we need to hurry. I hate that look in her eyes, that defeated, frightened scream. Her head whips to the children, little Bly, Romilly, and Guthrie. I know what she's thinking, she is starting to show, and the burden of life weighs down her small body. Why hadn't we made allies? With someone? Anyone?!
I snort, turning quickly from her and rounding up my kin. I have an idea, and not much time to think. Bly is small, like Mother, but she is older than the twins. I have no other choice. I look at them, a frightening light in my copper gaze. "Do you remember the way I showed you to the Deserts?" I am all business, a harsh commanding tone, I need an answer. I do, Romilly is the first to speak, an oddly intelligent girl. I watch her lips move, the nod of her dial, I can only assume she is telling me yes. This foal my Dam carries now, it belongs to a man from the Deserts she says, and I can only hope he is nothing like my own Sire.
I nod, I stamp my hoof into the ground. "Go, Run and do not stop. Do what you must, just get there." I scream at them, demanding they move immediately. "I will help her, she is my burden." Rearing and clawing at the air with my dull limbs I make a point, and watch them turn tail. She was my burden in most ways, my Mother, and I could not hate her for it. Not when the possibility of an end drew so near. I go to her then watching her trot up the hill, fast as she can. Within moments I am at her side, my long legs make quick work of any journey. I press her on, pushing from the side when she stumbles.
The others, she cries to me. I watch her start to turn, to rush back the way we came. I was the adult here, how had it become so? Without thinking I shove her, knocking her aside, but not enough for her to lose her footing. I was bigger, much bigger than she would ever be, but I know my strength. "There is nothing we can do for them Mother, we can't go back!" Why doesn't she listen for once, why can't she hear reason. "What? What do you think you can do? What can I do? We have nothing Mother, just use your head and run!" I divert my eyes as she submits, did she not understand? I would die here for them if I had to. To protect them, to protect her. There was no one else to do it, and they needed protecting.
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