between heaven and hell; straia

[Tarnished]

I watch you fast asleep,
All I fear means nothing.

Nocturnal's son?

Of course he is.

Unfortunately, he is.

“Yes,” Tarnished replies, though there’s a noticeable discomfort; for whatever reason, the mere mention of her name ignites a spark inside his head and he cannot help seeing images from years gone by pass right in front of him. She ran through this forest, played with its wolves; taught her brothers how to survive, was the king’s most promising heir. She dreamed of ruling it all someday only to be tossed out in the cold when her shape-shifting came to light. It’d been the start of all of her problems, the catalyst for things to come. Instead of embracing it, she struggled; she fit herself into places she didn’t belong and look at what happened.

He fights back a sneer at the thought, disgusted and disappointed.

“How strange,” he muses, focusing instead on the mention of Rodrik rather than exploding into an emotional (literal) ball of fire over… her. Nocturnal never trusted him. Disliked him, honestly. She had always had her suspicions about his involvement in her sister’s death but nothing ever came of it. And then she went and killed herself before anything was found out. Which is convenient, really, now that he thinks about it.

The Chamber King must have been pleased to hear the news.

“I’m always dwelling on the past, anyways, so,” he shrugs. “What would you like to know?”

tarnished

@[Straia]

[Straia]

His discomfort is obvious, and for once, Straia decides to be polite and not pry. She had met the mare only once, and had little to go on, but she can’t quite imagine growing up with a dragon for a mother. But then again, she had a monster for a father, and that has always seemed terribly normal to her. Maybe having a dragon for a mother is also terribly normal. She wouldn’t know. She hadn’t had her mother for very long, though she thinks she was probably lucky for having a good, kind mother even at all.

They were apparently rare.

Even Straia wasn’t exactly kind. Though she loved her son fiercely – that was not in question – but she never said it. Really, she was lucky though, she son might freak out and run away if she ever actually said “I love you” to him (or really, to anyone). He wouldn’t know what to do with that sentiment just as much as she had no idea how to express it. Other, of course, than to burn the Jungle to the ground if they didn’t return him soon.

He switches to Rodrik, and Straia chuckles lightly – not really amused, but something dark and deadly in that laugh. Her father and her had one hell of a volatile relationship.  She’s pretty sure he murdered her mother. He did his best to keep her off the Chamber throne. She overthrew him and sold him to the Valley. If given the chance, she’d kill him. If given the chance, he’d probably kill her too.

“No, I imagine it was very tactful. He did, after all, overthrow that side of the family. I existed only to tie the two bloodlines together and give him some tiny bit of legitimacy. Shame for him I’ve always been rather curious though.” She has found out bits and pieces here, most of it through the history of the Chamber itself, which was pretty hard to keep quiet.

But she never knew much on a personal level. And she never would. The raven’s couldn’t pick up that information as easily as they could stories of the dragon that burned that Chamber. Some things are more readily talked about than others. But he offers information, and really, she doesn’t know what to ask. She wants to know everything, but at the same time, does not intend to force him to drag up memories he doesn’t want to. But still, she does want to know. At least this. “Did you know my mother? “ Because she barely remembers Frostweaver, and she wonders what the rest of the world thought of her. The imagine in Straia’s mind might just be a dream.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber

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