"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
Autumn is like a soothing balm to the heat of summer, coaxing the world slowly into the slumber which winter will bring. Taking everything from vibrant hues of crisp, leafy greens to those that set the world on fire in orange and crimson and sunshine. Everything changes with the season, well, most things do. He is summer everlasting against the drying grasses, the fire in the snow when all else had been snuffed out to make room for new. The trees of pine will stay evergreen as well, the needles emerald and prickling even in the heart of ice and snow. And though all is preparing to die and decay, some things are only beginning, some things get their start in the fall and then bloom fresh in the spring with the wildflowers.
Children, of course it is the children of which he speaks, the changing hue of leaves on oak and maple signaled the start of the mating season. His own lines ranged freely within the confines of the pine forest and come spring he would add to that. Another young life was made by his hands and he could not feel an ounce of remorse on it, even if they never thought it he had given himself wholly to them. What parts he could spare for them he willingly sacrificed, bending on knee to offer them as some sort of peace prize, mostly those blackened pieces of his heart. He would bat for them always, keep their counsel and their peace if he could. The protection he was able to give would always be theirs if they would allow it and silently he prayed that they would willingly accept.
Suppose in their own ways they had accepted that jagged little pill he had given them, one that he had never meant to cause harm with but somehow everything always ended up a muddled mess. Was that a curse, was he cursed?
Killdare had never been a superstitious fellow, that is before he had spent his life growing into adulthood in the far reaches of Beqanna, in the secluded realm of the Chamber. Eventually he had begun to accept things that he would never give cause or care to before, things he was told as a child were not real or did not exist. Possibilities were endless here, strange things crept over those both willing and resistant and he had a mind to never be caught in the crosshairs of some magic entity unawares or ill-prepared. Yes, acceptance was the first part of being prepared, an open mind and willingness to learn was another. Hadn’t he proved this when he had stood before the burning tree and accepted the flame it spilled over him as it would a crown?
It had been some time since he had crossed paths with Nymphetamine, too long perhaps but it was quite the vacation from his incessant prattle and “clever” nicknames. Alas, truth be told Nymph was one of Killdare’s few friends and the magma King really could not boast of having many. Most of them had gone, disappeared from this life or taken to the unknown reaches and mountains of Beqanna after the war. It was high time he kept the ones that remained and did something to keep the terms amicable.
For the 3 years he lived in Chamber under false pretenses he was always watched, by the beady eyed creatures in the trees, and his own personal chaperone raven that sat upon his back. He had more than enough by the time the war occured and he was relieved his passenger as Straia was chased into the mountains. Since then the necromancer had found a true life within the ashy kingdom, and with it the freedoms that came with trust. He loved that he was able to go and do as he pleased, He worked hard over the past two years to better Chamber. Nymhpetamine checked on their alliances periodically, recruited a few new members, and had met more member of Chamber himself in an effort to guage the state of the Kingdom, He was always on the hunt for useful information. He had joined the diplomats as a way to get information for Gates initially, he never thought the work would be enjoyable or that he would excel at it. Even though he rose quickly through the ranks, he hadn't expected to have as much freedom as he had, a whole years worth, without a word from the Killdare. Either the king had a lot of faith in him, or he had avoided him on purpose.
Whatever it was, the blood bay stallion knew they couldn't avoid each other forever. He had an update to give on Valley and he figured it was a good idea to touch base with the king, if only for a yearly brief. It was with that knowledge that nymphetamine moved through the wood, listening for the sizzle of magma burning the bark of the trees, and sift through the pine notes of the forest to find the charred carbon notes that identified Killdare. The autumn air had already developed a chill which irked the necromancer- he was 100% desert racer and had thin skin covering his lanky bones-- autumn meant winter and winter meant cold. Nymhpetamine hated cold. He tried hard to ignore that fact as he worked on finding the large bay king. Maybe it was fate, or maybe there was unspoken magic that made the king easier to find when it pleased his majesty, but the conjurer found the scent where he usually had no inkling of his presence anywhere with Chamber.
The journey to where Killdare was was short enough, the evergreen trees hid the change of season, but all the other brush had browned and yellowed from the sun's radiation. Even the pine trees shed some of their needs that crunched under hoof while he approached. While he knew Killdare would hear him, and smell him he allowed himself to become invisible, to enjoy a little hide and seek with his ol pal. A few more strides and his target was in view, "Hey hot pants, been a while." His retort rolled off his tongue with a chuckle, before moving quickly left further into the small clearing to avoid any magma Killdare might spit his way. In a wave that rippled the air around him, he appeared in front of Killdare, smirk still planted on his dark tipped maw. "Is it just me, or did you make finding you easy this time?"
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain
The corpse-wielder is right to know that Killdare would smell him long before the outline of his bay body was ever seen by two burning eyes. He was good to know that his Highness would sooner splatter unwanted guest with oozing flame than to ever let them approach unannounced. This is why Killdare feigns to notice the other’s approach, bending his sooty head to the ground to grab at withering shoots of yellowed grass and chewing loudly. The smell of death was not one that he could truly ignore, the aroma clawing at his nostrils as they flared into wide ovals against his long face. Death and pine and a snark, does snark have a smell? Surely if it did the scent of it would cling wholeheartedly to the bloody brown pelt of the Chambers leading Diplomat.
The season does little to hide smells anyways, everything was brittle, dry, lifeless, nothing like the cacophony of scents that would bombard him in the summer months but he had learned years ago to differentiate between them.
When the autumn air ripples and bends in front of him as he chews with a blank face, he makes no movement as Nymphetamine appears, watching him solidify without hint of amusement. Did he let him find him? Perhaps. However it was terribly hard to actually hide, it was more like he was an excellent avoider when he wanted to be, skirting off out of sight when company was unwelcome or unwanted. Today he wasn’t sure what to make of it, part of him welcomed the idle banter that Nymphetamine would provide, the other half begged him to shoo him away on some time-wasting errand. Killdare did neither to confirm nor deny those feelings, he simply gazed ahead, chewing slow and loud before swallowing his mouthful in a theatric gulp.
“And deny you your claim at finding skills?” he shrugged, rolling his great charcoal shoulders absent mindedly. “Maybe today you are just a better finder of things Nymphetamine.” It was off this, this detached way of speaking, this unpresent reaction to the world around him but everything felt gray when he did not have the company of Malis and Victra to keep the pain at bay. “How do our allies fair? How is your new underling, Arthas he is called? He’s the dappled one, wanted to join your side of things, do the speaking for our ranks.” Nothing but words, pointless it felt but he was trying his best at conversation. “How do you fare Nymph? Anything good happening in the world?” Something would need to send him from this funk but he did not know what. If he was lucky the blood at his front would having something cheerful to say.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
I am sorry for this wait, i am in a funk and luckily I can play Kingdare as though he is in one too. Its crap, please respond as you will to it xD
06-03-2016, 09:41 AM (This post was last modified: 06-03-2016, 10:05 AM by Nymphetamine.)
There was something different about Killdare. When he first met the then winged stallion, he was bold and outspoken. He had brandished his words like a lash, firing back at the young necromancer's haughty attempts at bold indifference. Maybe age and time had changed him, or maybe it was the weight and pressures of being King, but the fiery king of the Chamber was not as sparkly (pride: ha) as he was before. To the necromancer, his King was as dry as the autumn leaves that crunch under his hooves. He didn't throw magma at him or taunt him in his usual way, just simply placated the Diplomat But fair is fair, and the blood bay diplomat knew that he had tried the kings patience in the past, he knew there could be multiple causes of perceived dullness. So he decided to hold off on his usual reverie of clever pet names for his favorite king and usual jaunts. Better to find solid ground with the king first, there's a time and a place...or however that saying goes.
He listened to the word his king spoke, a half grin on his features, before his own tenor cut the air, "Yeah, right Killdare, maybe today I learned how to track finally... I don't believe you." Nymphetamine wasn't upset, his tone was light, as a friend talking to another comrade. As for Arthas, I haven't seen him since I dropped him off with you and Dacia before I left with Kimber to find Vessel. He was Army Caste then, I was unaware he switched castes. I will have to find him -using my new tracking skills- for training." The ranking diplomat paused there as Killdare grew empty in his words, more detached and alouf. His eyes furrowed and his small smile fell to a thin line. He did not care for this form of his King. There was something amiss, but the source of the problem was unknown. But, he would answer the questions first, so that he could dig in there after. "Ah yes, the alliances are well, I have been to Tundra and Valley since I saw you last. Topsail seems to be doing well, and is glad to continue our alliance. Eight seems to be following her lead- i am glad to report. I plan to visit Gates soon, they have been too quiet. But outside of work... I've been better. Sometimes I think I like to punish myself....I'll leave it at that. No need to weigh you down with my personal issues.. you know enough. But you Killdare... how are you. And don't give me that blanket King answer. I am you leading diplomat, I am here to help with interior and exterior issues especially for my king....and I think it is safe to say I am your friend as well...what troubles you?"
The necromancer's eyes didn't leave Killdares greenish ones. He stood tall, firmly planted in his spot. He refused to allow his king to be in such a detached state, it was no good for him on a personal level and definitely no good for the Kingdom. Something had to give, and he would topple the tower if necessary.
Nymphetamine
cold was my soul, untold was the pain I faced when you left me: a rose in the rain
It is obvious he is different, he’d taken no caution to hide it. Time changes people and things and crowns are even more earnest in their transformations. To put it plainly and without flair, life had changed Killdare, both physically and mentally. Once he was a bold young thing, sights set on greatness for all the wrong reasons, all those self-serving and selfish. He went to the Chamber to learn, to grown and becoming something more than what his Father ever gave him potential to be. Well, he had gotten all that hadn’t he? In more ways than he could have fathomed and in the end he no longer sought that kind of glory as the boy had once wished for.
Of course Killdare wanted to be a good king, a just king but more than that he wanted to rule. Killdare wanted to make something of the Chamber and so far he wasn’t sure he had accomplished all that much with them. Shifting the inhabitants from dark to neutral in a sense was taxing, slow going and so much so that they teetered on the edge of good. Would the Chamber ever be made for those of the light? It’s not likely but he would always be of the mind that they were all more than their darkness led others to believe. Maybe the King of Heat was in denial about his own morals and virtues.
“Stranger things can happen Nymph,” he cuts the air with his words, brushing off the bays humor as if it were thick icing on a cake he could not stomach. “Arthas however has decided he is better suited to the ways of words than that of battle and blood.” He almost shrugged at this too, casting away the change without much thought. “Yes,” he paused, “see that you do manage to teach him something won’t you? I can’t deny we could use more in the diplomatic ranks, so i’ll leave that up to you to help him along.” He didn’t want Arthas to fail, partly because he thought that would reflect poorly on himself. The first selfish, almost King-like thought he had had in days.
Talk of the alignments perked him a bit if it could be said, in any case his charcoal ears pulled forward at the news. “To the Tundra and the Valley both? Well, you’ve been busier than I expected then, good that.” The comment was meant to be a compliment but he had never been much good at giving them. “Ah yes, young Topsail. I’m glad she adjusts and Eight too, though if he failed support her now I’d be disappointed.” After all it was with a little help and whisper from Eight that the girl had even found herself in the position she was in, but Magicians were finicky creatures, he wouldn’t deny his opinion of that. “The Gates is dead I’m afraid, would that we could find someone reasonable to herald it. That would have been an ideal alliance if we could have assisted them in re-growth.” Alas now the Magma King had no notions on who would be a good partner for the Chamber to lead the sleepy Kingdom and everything he had put into it too- sigh.
Surprise finds his face at the close of the Necromancer’s spiel, the conversation turning towards himself so suddenly. “Family business Nymph, I dare say you would know a thing or two about my position.” Killdare grows almost hard, his mental defenses rising as physically his shell hardened as well. “Somehow I’ve made my bed in a thorn bush.”
To say Killdare had changed was an understatement. One part of the diplomat was happy that to hear the praises come from his king about the job well done, but the other was not having it. He was displeased with his way of being, and the longer he listened to Killdare go on the harder it got to hold his tongue. But he did, his king needed that, needed to have Nymph not add to his pot of issued that bubbled over. Nymph new better to poke an agitated bear. He had spent long enough with Siberian to know that much. So he choked down his own frustrations, for if he acted on them it would only make his own life more frustrating. Killdare spoke of Gates, it was truly unfortunate. To have an alliance fall through due to the kingdom's own lack of leadership. "Is there anything I should do then, to help usher new leadership there that would further our cause?" It was a stretch, but he should try none the less.
When Killdare finally answered him, as to what had gotten him so off kilter, Nymph couldn't help but laugh. Killdare had always acted like he would never find himself in a situation like that of he and Kimber. Oh, how the mighty king had fallen. The laughter fell lightly from his lips, a true break in the tension he felt internally. Between spurts of laughter, he was able to apologize and get on with the conversation. " Oh... Oh my... forgive my Killdare, I do not laugh at you, but oh I never thought you would be one to have Family issue along the lines of my own....though I am glad to know the rumors of your family lines are true. So what your lady throws more shade than Kimber, is so I don't know how I could help you or is it a different issue? I fear I have made my bed in a thorn bush as well, friend." He paused a moment before he continued, eyes turned serious and hardened as he remembered his recent decision to move on. "Though I have recently decided to extricate myself from said thorns....it is a hard bed to lay in for long. But anyway, what advice con your peacekeeper offer his king?" He shook the thought from his mind, trying to keep the conversation on topic. He hoped Killdare wouldn't notice, but it was doubtful. What a pair they were, leaders within the great kingdom, but still caught in their everyday issues like anyone else. Time changed everything, but nothing at the same time.
If only things were as simply put as the Necromancer was hoping for. It wasn’t though, it isn’t, life isn’t that easy. Killdare had sulked, and sulked and still he was sour about the whole ordeal. Was it a curse or a blessing of his to lose those he loved? On any front he was tired of losing them, sick of the sickness their leaving brought his mind, his body. The way their tail end brought the ache in his heart that he dare not show anyone. Perhaps he wouldn’t do that anymore, let it happen, maybe he should suck it up and move forward instead of tracing designs in the sands of the past.
It’s just that he didn’t want to be something he wasn’t, never intended to be the dark creature that was expected of him. Was he avoiding fate then? Is that what waited for him regardless of wha the wanted?
Sometimes he thought so, the cackling of the fae had led him to believe in it when they had bestowed his Kingdom gift. Still he strove for change, he wanted a just world, he wanted more than fear and might to be his ruling legacy. Killdare wanted to be a good King, he wanted to act on justified grounds instead of ruling with a mind set on a thirst for power. He wanted to answer unjustice with justice and show those who sought to squabble over the world like a pack of rabid dogs just what it meant to lead. Nymph’s laughter broke him from his reverie, sooty ears pulling forward to hear the chortling sound.
“Mmm, still as humored as ever you,” he sighed taking in their surroundings in whole. “It’s true, love has a nasty sense of humor of her own. Perhaps you would be well suited to teach her new tricks?” His head rose higher then, looking at the conjurer with a practiced gaze. “Thank you Nymph, I wish there were advice for this. I’m not sure it’s something to be so easily cured with words hmm?” Of course it would take more than that to heal wounds so deep, to make sense of such a mess hell bent on staying one. “It’s good I kept you Nymph, you know?” The compliment is one of few to leave him but it is true nonetheless. “You’re a good man deep down, I’m sure we'll both get passed this, somehow.”
Already Killdare was finding he was getting passed it, he was moving on...
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