"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
The sun is warm and the air is brisk, its gentle caress a soothing comfort to the young female as she saunters quietly (and not altogether stealthily; experience draws her to err on the side of caution but her youth provokes error in her calculations). Her desperately precise steps still provoke the breaking of twigs and splitting of dried, burnt foliage that had remained dormant beneath the winter's snowfall, drawing more attention to her presence than she had hoped for. Her senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of sulfur and ash, and for a moment, she recoils - her doe eyes study the uneasy terrain around her and with only a second of hesitation, her swift and slender legs carry her over the wreckage of war and she weaves effortlessly through the thick foliage.
Bleak rays of sunlight warm her to the core as she slows down, pausing to observe the destruction that lay before her. Though new life had begun to spring from the soot and ash, it was still a dismal sight - one that caused a pang of pain to clench around her fragile young heart. It was difficult to see such devastation when so much of the world was still painted in such bright displays of alluring beauty. There was still something inexplicably stunning about the winding, dying pieces of pine still left standing after the ravaging fire - something that spoke to the very depths of her soul. Rebirth and restore.
Breathlessly, she spreads her thick, shimmering plumage - their graying feathers catching the glorious gleam of sunlight from above as she flexes her wings at her side. She has grown, her figure no longer than of a child - though she was still young in many ways. With smooth, lithe and feminine curves, she was growing and developing into a beautiful creature of grace and sinewy muscle, though inexperience and innocence still painted her in a youthful glow. Her call echoes from the depths of her throat, bouncing along both the dying and thriving foliage that line the thick border of a land she had only heard of in soft murmurs and brief whispers.
She remembers his hushed, tired murmurs in the midst of his restless sleep, as she was curled up against him in the midst of a cool autumn evening. Time had come and gone, ebbing and flowing just as the restless ocean does, but he lingered on her mind. No longer tied to the boundaries of the silvery cove she had been raised behind (or perhaps, simply caring less for the consequences of being caught sneaking away), she sought her ursine companion in the only place she thought she might be able to find him.
The Chamber.
she rules her life like a fine skylark and wouldn't you love to love her?
04-05-2016, 08:36 PM (This post was last modified: 04-05-2016, 08:39 PM by Nymphetamine.)
Spring was different in Chamber, the pine forest that covered most the land never shed its green needles. It was easy to overlook the other signs of spring if you were no observant, the blossoms on the sparse deciduous trees that had managed to survive the competition for soil and light stood out but were few and far between. The shrubbery blossomed but it was shrubbery and who paid attention to that? The grass had an extra struggle of being noticed under an extra layer of soot, ash, and debris. Spring was not all it was cracked up to be in Chamber.
The necromancer didn't mind. Time passed by and each season had its own distinct look in this plase he had learned to call home. The pine forest and all it's quirks, regardless of season, had grown on him. He never thought he would learn to actually like the always slightly ash- infused air that smelled like a freshly blown out pine scented candle. He had grown up here in a sense, it had given him a purpose, a family of his own ( no matter how nontraditional it was), and friendship. He now worked grow the land that had given him so much. Nymphetamine stopped as he approached the boarderlands, and surveyed the landscape. He had gone to the meadow for a little breather, and was glad to be home, the time away had been what he needed but he was ready to get back to his duties.
His eyes tok in the scene, there was always some activity here, members came and went, the warriors ambled by on patrol, and occationally there was a visitor. The visitors were always the most obvious, they were the ones that lingered, not able to move forward into the pine forest but not moving away either. This time he spoted such a being. A mare, smaller than he, but with grand silver wings. She stood looking at the odd scene that was chamber in the Spring and he was curious what brought the younger mare here to stand on the edge of his home.
Dark hooves plodded up next to the mare and halted as his blood bay body was equal with hers. He surveyed the land where she looked out upon before he turned his head to glance her way with a smile. "What brings you to Chamber's door?" He kept his tone light, while he didn't feel threatened, he kept himself ready incase he needed react to any thing sudden. There was still the occational crazy who managed to not understand the war was over. He listened for a reply, while he inhaled the scent of someplace/something that was distantly familiar, but was unable to place. He looked upon her again, figuring that an introduction was appropriate, "I am Nymphetamine of Chamber, its a pleasure to meet you...?" He allowed his question to fade so the mare could introduce herself as well. She was young, and stunning, but not so young that it was odd for him to notice her looks.
Anytime the bay thought of other mares, Kimber managed to scoff at him from the depth of his mind; she never let him be. But he was still unwilling to adress that issue, so he shook the thought away and focused instead on figuring out why he recognized the scent on the newcomer. He made sure to be a gentleman, and give her his attention as she spoke, best to not lead with sarcasm when the pretty young mares were around. (Players gonna play, and haters gonna hate...or however that whole thing went. #hatetheplayernotthegame)
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain
The afternoon had a quiet lull that was not entirely still, but still cradled her within the depths of loneliness that came with such silence. The gentle crooning of avians cooped up from miles away echoed against the few pines that had survived the fiery fury of war, and the obnoxious caw of a raven circling overhead pulled her from her brief reverie as well - yet there was something unmistakably stunning about the forest. The bleak, pale sunlight peeked through the various dry branches, shining its illuminating light along the ashen ground, bathing the dying land in its life-giving light. She lifts a wing to dip gently into the illumination, admiring the way the sheen reflects off of her silvery feathers, before she stills suddenly.
She is unaware of his presence until he is very nearly at her flank; her deep brown doe eyes soon peering into his own. She is breathless, wary and tense, and she pulls her wing close to her lithe body once more. He moved beside her, and her eyes followed the lines of his body - tendons and sinewy muscle rippled gently beneath his shining bay pelt and she swallowed slowly. He was a stranger, one that had moved beside her with such stealth that she had no choice but to scold herself for allowing her guard to fall so easily - and in such a thick, wooded area. She studied him for a long moment, tracing the strong, handsome lines of his face before her voice finally rose from the depths of her throat.
Fragile, cracked - but soon it found its strength.
"You are very quiet, Nymphetamine - I feel foolish for not having noticed you sooner. My name is Misra." Her gaze is now elsewhere, though she listens closely to his movements - to his steady, rhythmic breathing and the memory of his deep, yet lighthearted tone. She wondered to herself how long he had been watching her, or if he had been watching her at all. There seemed a strong likelihood that he hadn't - he probably knew of every shifting, moving creature in this burnt, soiled thicket.
"I am from the Silver Cove, but I have come .. well," She pauses, flustered with momentary embarrassment. It was such a ridiculous reason to have come at all; he was not likely to be here at all. She very nearly turned to go, to flee into flight through the small open clearing overhead, but she stops, and she looks to him once more, doe eyes earnest but sheepish. "I was hoping to find an .. old friend of mine, here. At least, I think he was from here .. his name is Siberian. Have you heard of him?"
she rules her life like a fine skylark and wouldn't you love to love her?
04-08-2016, 11:22 AM (This post was last modified: 04-08-2016, 11:30 AM by Nymphetamine.)
He hadn't meant to startle the girl, he didn't realize his hoof falls were as cushioned on the soft spring grasses as they were. Even with the underbrush around him he somehow managed to start the interaction on a some-what-negative note. He watched as she quickly withdrew into herself, and tensed. He had a great first impression, scaring the newcomer was just the way he didn't want it to go. He side stepped to give her a little space and help her feel less threatened. He tried not to notice the way she took him in though he'd be lying if his ego didn't inflate a bit with the attention. His voice came softly, like a morning breeze, but soon it picked up, found its hold and grew to a full lovely sound. It brought a smile to his face, she was kind and her name had a lovely sound to it. "Do not feel foolish on my account, Misra. I am sorry to startle you, it must be nerve racking to come to an unknown place."
He took a small step forward, now that she had adjusted to him, maybe it was him but he usually preferred smaller conversation space. He hated talking loudly, his conversations were his and his company's no one else. Perhaps it was from the years of spy work, and hushed conversations in the shadows that seeped into his personal experiences. Misra looked elsewhere as she found her words, and Nymph mentally repeated her name again in his head. It was a lovely sounding name, but the thought was disrupted (probably for the better) once she spoke. He watched her eyes, and they searched the land like she searched for the object of her visit. She had come to find someone. She swung her deep pools to him again, and they held a shyness, but what fell from her mouth mad him about choke. He tried to hide the odd way the news struck him by clearing his throat... yeah, that was natural.
The black mare was the one in which Siberian had mentioned in a conversation a while back, except he had left off her name. He had seemed so reluctant to say there was a connection between them. The blood bay was not sure exactly what existed between his friend and the young mare, but it could have been something. Well, maybe Siberian just needed a wing man, maybe Siberian just needed another opportunity to see the lass. Lord knows Siberian had played interference between the bay and blue not-couple enough times. The shock had faded from the necromancer's eyes, and instead, a bright curiosity showed through. While he still outwardly played the role of a charming stranger, he pushed any self-interest aside. (Lord knows he had too much love-drama to start yet another love triangle) "Oh yes Siberian, our resident bear. Yes, he is here... Though I haven't seen him recently- I have been out recruiting too much recently, but I owe him a visit would you like to tag along? I am sure we can find him, with a stroll through Chamber." He tilted his head and wondered what Sib's reaction would be to his ol' buddy showing up with his not-so-distant "lover" in hand. Well he would find out soon enough. There were only so many places you could hide in Chamber, and a strole with a pretty lady would be a great way to spend the day (and if Kimber saw, then even better).
Nymphetamine
Cold was my soul, untold was the pain; I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain.
He draws away from her, and she uses the space that falls between them as an opportunity to take in the sight of him. He is unlike Kirin in many ways - a deep hue of crimson and sienna, blended smoothly together with dark obsidian tresses that frame his handsome features well. His gaze is intense, yet soothing - the tension melts away from her taut muscles and she feels at ease with the gentle baritone of his echoing voice.
She has spent many of her days within the tight confines of a silvery cove with lapping waves and the rise and fall of an ebbing tide, often by the side of the most unusual and captivating individuals the world has had to offer. Nymphetamine is wholly unique to her in a sense - though he may look ordinary in comparison to the vibrant shades of lilac, violet and unusual, color-splattered wings she is used to, he was entirely extraordinary to her.
She offers him a warm smile - the very same genuine, but over-saturated sweetness bubbling beneath the surface of her large, endlessly deep doe eyes as she watches him. He moves closer again, and this time she does not waver. He seems to harbor no ill will, and his words (and eyes - he may think she is too young to understand it, but Kirin has gazed at her many times in the very same way, and she realizes instantly that he is drawn to her) speak volumes in depth and tone. The muscle between her brow bones furrows as he flinches at the mention of Siberian; he clearly knows of her ursine friend and for this she is grateful - but she wonders for a moment if he is simply shocked because what equine searches so vehemently for a bear?
In that context, she can see why he might falter for a moment, and she stifles another smile.
"That would be wonderful," Misra says gently, her dark brown gaze again peering into the ruins of the forest that lay before her. She aches to see Siberian again, and hopes that he has been well. He has been on her mind as of late and she did not know why. "I have heard much about the Chamber - it would be nice to see it up close and personal. I appreciate that you are taking precious time to aid me, Nymphetamine," She says with a sultry allure to her tone, gazing back to him, her eyes full of childlike, youthful vigor, while her tone and words spoke of years far beyond her own. Her innocence has been too far tainted by the manipulative, careful hand of a master, and she is none the wiser. "Thank you. Lead the way?"
she rules her life like a fine skylark and wouldn't you love to love her?
He got the sense that she could have played him like a fiddle if she wanted to. She was womanly, more womanly than someone her age should be. He had heard of Silver Cove and was not sure he fully agreed with everything that went on there. The cove were allies, as per Killdare's wishes, so he kept his mouth shut and didn't speak of his ill thoughts. So the fact she was too mature for her youth, made sense in a way; but the stallion just knew she was something he could (and would) get lost in if he were not aware. He watched her eyes as she spoke of wanting to see chamber, and would gladly tour the lands as they looked for the bear-horse. Those damn eyes were dangerous, no wonder Siberian had been so confused. They danced with curiosity and mischief, and he had to remind himself, again, that he could not grow interested in the mare personally. The reddish stallion looked to the war-torn lands and moved off, "I am sure you will find Chamber beautiful, even though she still healing from war."
He led her through the forest, occasionally he called for Siberian, but mostly he talked to her of the lands they roamed. He knew they would eventually find the bear, so he allowed the time to pass naturally, and let the chips fall where they may.
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain
He'd taken an early morning patrol, before the sun rose fully overnight and the temperature rose with it. Now, however, Siberian has decided to take a little "me" time and do something that he hadn't done in literal years: go fishing. He'd learned early on, in the first few days after he was brought (kidnapped, let's be honest here his brain reminds him) here where the watering holes were. Not dying of dehydration was top on his list, and so the Budyonny knows the location of every little creek, pond, etc, that there might be within the Chamber's borders. As the stallion nears the deepest watering hole available, he trades hooves for paws, wading into the pond as far as he can and still be on solid ground instead of floating. The cool water feels so far good against his warm brown fur, and he takes a few moments to just stand there, not moving. Just being. And then, he gets down to business. His dark eyes gaze down through the water, searching for aquatic prey.
There wasn't as many fish here as there had been in that river in the Playground, which made sense since the pond was a locked ecosystem whereas a river was not. They were also smaller; but at least there were fish available, period. He'd settle for whatever there was. So absorbed does the grizzly shifter become in his game that he doesn't hear Nymphetamine and a mare approaching until he glances up, a bluegill clutched in his massive jaws, and spots them. Oh. Company. Drop the fish, eat it? Well he had managed to catch it, and he was hungry. Siberian hastily chews and swallows it down, ducking his shaggy head under the water to wash away any scales. Stepping back into the shallows, the stallion shifts back from his ursine form, water dripping from his glossy coat as he looks at his visitors again. "Nymph, how are you? " He quickly recognizes the pegasus mare, even though she had been a filly the last time they met, and smiles curiously, wondering what she's doing here. "Hello, Misra. "
The warmth of day begins to set in, interlacing itself between the thick (albeit charred) wooded plain, slowly seeping its way through her dark, silvery pelt and settling into her youthful bones. She strides alongside Nymphetamine; her spindly legs pressing forth with a power all their own as she stubbornly insists on matching his pace. She listens with intensity, her sienna-tinted eyes gazing to him every now and again to watch as his lips curled and moved with each word and the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his kingdom (it spoke volumes of his deep, unspoken love for its burnt remains) - but mostly, she searched between the thin line of foliage for a familiar face.
She finds herself growing anxious, but she does not allow it to show in the direct lines of her expression. A deeper look into her soulful eyes told a different story - one of anxious thoughtfulness as she wondered if he would remember her at all; at times she wondered if it had all been a dream but there was a thin, lingering pair of scars left behind by a vicious paw that settled on her right flank as a staunch reminder of her narrow escape from a violent end. She would not and could not forget him, for the entirety of her life, for he had marked her without even meaning to.
Her laughter rings and echoes in the thick lining of the forest as she saunters along at the pace of her companion, her wings flexing now and then as a familiar ache settles into their delicate bones. It had been too long since she had last flown and outstretched her wings, and she made a mental note to allow the wind to weave its way through her glimmering feathers again soon. Though her mind is preoccupied, she has come to find she thoroughly enjoys Nymphetamine's company - he is charming, witty - with a scathing humor. He's different, she thought, but she did not have any time to linger upon it.
A voice broke her away from her reverie as her deep auburn eyes focused on the obsidian male that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He is damp, with thick trickling droplets of water dribbling down the length of his body, and it takes everything within her not to let her jaw slacken as he offers a warm, genuine smile. Her heart begins to hammer against her taut, tight chest and she swallows an unfamiliar emotion that leaves her entirely off-guard.
Hello, Misra. She knows that voice, and he knows her name.
"Siberian? Is that you? You're .. oh." She stutters; her usually casual and collected sultry facade faltering for a moment as she becomes thoroughly flustered. She is grateful for her dark pelt, as she would surely develop a deep hue of coral on her cheekbones without it. "It's been a while," She offers, giving a smile of her own, though a shy one. "how are you?"
she rules her life like a fine skylark and wouldn't you love to love her?
Their walk led them to a stream and he knew instantly that Siberian was there. The fuzzy bear form shoved his head under water in his beast impersonation of an ostrich, face down bottom up. The blood bay watched as his best mate turned from brown bear to black horse. It was quite the oddity to watch start to finish but the best thing he'd seen all day was the look on his face when he realized his company was Misra. He nodded in reply to Siberian's greeting, and from there took a back seat, as Misra's face lit up like the fourth of July and took off 20 question for Siberian. A small chuckle escaped him as surely Siberian would find him later, wondering what had happened, how had he wandered upon the girl, etc etc.
He listened off to the side, a lovely third wheel to their whirling questions, before deciding his part was done and neither Siberian nor Misra needed him around. Once there was a pause in conversation he bid his fairwell. "Siberian, I'm going to go get back to work. Misra, it was a pleasure. You give a sound is Siberian gets too grumpy bear and needs a wrangle. I'll come to aide you." His lips parted in a hearty laugh, and he was quite amused with himself. He nodded farewell to each and then turned and left the way he came. Those two didn't need him., and his attention was needed elsewhere. He would make a point to find them again soon but for now he would let them get reacquainted in private.
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain
Still staring at Misra, Siberian comes back to reality abruptly when Nymph makes his teasing exit, snorting with mock exasperation at his friend's remarks. Well. Now it's just him and her, and he's not sure what to do next. Well, step one was obvious: moving the rest of the way out of the water. The stallion does just that, stepping back up onto the grassy edge, moving carefully so as not to slip with his wet hooves. She'd grown from the little filly he'd met that day in the Cove, grown into a mare that, kept strictly to himself, was quite easy on his eyes. He wonders if Nymph had tried to flirt with her as they trekked along looking for him. Probably. The blood bay was quite the ladies' man, or at least he tried to be. That had definitely brought pain to his friend though, and he hopes that the necromancer and Kimber can somehow manage to work out their issues and create a future together.
Dark eyes still on the pegasus, he has an idea. "Maybe you'd like to see the fiery tree? It's a bit of magic, right in the middle of the Chamber. " He waits for her consent, then leads her in the proper direction until they are a short distance from it. He avoids looking at the spot where the would-be kidnapper from the Gates rested in the embrace of the dead, it was hardly a pleasant topic of conversation in his opinion. He gestures towards the tree with his muzzle even though she had probably already spotted it. The area was empty, as it usually was since Shaytan's departure. He wonders what had become of the crazy mare. The Budyonny's gaze darts back to Misra, suddenly anxious. Would she like having been brought here to see the tree, or would she think it was terrible? Barely, he resists the impulse to shuffle his front hooves with embarrassment. He'd hoped to have impressed the female, but perhaps he'd backfired. It was too bad that the Falls kingdom had a monopoly on its namesake nature-feature. He'd always heard that most mares like stuff like that....
![[Image: nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/dsl_devin/nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif)
