"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
When his grip over her faded, she had fled. Dark limbs carried her fleetingly over the frozen lands. Calleis had forgotten the feel of icy winds cooling her flesh, it's tug on her mane. The dark wings lay folded across her spine as she wished to only run, run, run.
Tarnished was dead.
The word had been spread on the lips of others. At first she thought they were only ill gotten rumors till the mare sought the rotted shores of the beach for proof. With the growing child in her belly, she can only smiles to see the remains of him being picked over by vultures. She can not help but smile as tears well in her eyes in a mix of happiness and disbelief. The bastard! He had beaten her, bled her, dominated her and gave her body to another to use. Calleis can feel her body shutter in anger as she fights the need to scream but instead she stuffs it down inside like a dark seed in fertile soil. Without any more consideration, she turns her back on his rot.
The field is frozen but quiet. It lay blessedly fresh with new fallen snow and a few wandering horses encased in communication. The gold eyes blink as tiny flakes catch on the length of her lashes, stroking the growth of gold tinted black fur. Deep inside she can feel the growing life and smiles gently to herself instead of feeling anger from the rape by the god king. Perhaps it will all be worth it once the little one is born.
08-25-2016, 08:02 AM (This post was last modified: 08-25-2016, 08:10 AM by Killdare.)
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
It is not enough to simply rule. To boast a crown on one's head and call yourself King. It takes more than titles and positions and the Chamber King could no longer leave the Kingdom to tend itself. Once more their numbers had slowly dwindled, tapered away with the closing of the year and it would seem that Winter’s snow had begun running off all manner of life- including the herd.
True he could manage to fill it, if only spreading his own lines to fill the empty crevices was enough. While that might all sound good and well, he and Malis could not be left to populate the Chamber themselves- the poor woman. Killdare shook his large head at the thought, tangled tresses of wavy black moving stiffly against particles of ice. This year it seemed winter had come with a vengeance or perhaps it was only because he had nothing to warm himself with now, no fire to burn within the very folds of his earthy skin. He was starting all over in that regard, his winter coat still not quite thick enough for his liking and it would not soon fill to what it should, what it could.
Alas, that was yet another price he paid, another tribute to the Chamber he would call it. Sometimes She took and took, yet he did not break at Her greed, instead he bent. He would always bend when it came to Her, as he very well should. For all She took She had given just as much or more, for all he paid there were still things She could rob him of and yet She did not.
Once again She provides, his glassy eyes falling on a lone mare in the field. Her belly is swollen with child and he wonders if this is some sort of game She likes to play with him, sending him damsels in distress to test him. Each heavy foot fall receives a resounding crunch beneath his weight as he stalks towards her, greeting her in deep baritone before he finally stops. Close but not too close, Gods know what kind of circumstance had left the woman in the bitter winds full of child and empty of hearth. “Hello. Killdare of the Chamber and you might be?” he offered then he asked, doing his best at diplomatic banter.
The gold of her eyes widen and dart about with the catch of hooves crushing hardened snowfall. The dark woman cringes away as she seeks the brace of naked trunks to secure her hind end as she prepares for a confrontation. Was the rumor of the deceased Tarnished false? Did he track her and come to claim his kill? Lobes pin as a animistic savageness takes hold. The dark wings lift as she prepares to flee but when his scent catches the flares nostrils of her gold shined lips does she wait.
The wait as the unknown male approaches is agonizing. It's toll is taken on the limbs of the heavily pregnant mare. Was he a comrade of Tarnished? A mindless crony in which to drive her back? Glistening eyes fall on the sienna form of the tall male. Calleis finds herself quaking ever so slightly as his eyes comb the bulge of her normally svelte form. She dares not move as she locks to his eyes with her own but she listens carefully to the words he speaks.
His name is Killdare...of the Chamber. He follows with the question as to her own calling. Calleis ponders this to determine trickery but if this were a trick then it was too late for her any way. "Calleis of nowhere." This was obviously a lie as to the fact that she is with child. She must be from somewhere but the woman offers up no further information as she remains with her nails rooted to the frozen soil and pressed to the tree and anticipating the dark man's actions like a cornered animal.
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING OF MOVING ON
He has been watching her from afar, drawn in by the golden shimmer that is so rarely seen. The ones who have possessed that memorable color have always been of his blood, but he doesn’t know this girl. There are resemblances in the angles of her face and the musculature of her body. It plays with his memory, drawing him in and pushing him out as he fights himself to identify her, but nothing comes of it. Little does he know how closely related they are, how their bodies are made nearly of the same material. The distance between them is enough to obscure his memory, to fool him into thinking that it’s just coincidence that she stands out to him. With his eyes never wavering Tiphon weighs the choices back and forth, but he doesn’t move until Killdare is already upon her, smelling thickly of the Chamber.
Their names are being sullenly exchanged when Tiphon arrives and takes his place opposite of the Chamberling. The piney scent of the kingdom brings him back to his birth when he had murdered both mother and father. It was for the good of Beqanna, he reassures himself, as his molten eyes rake over the stallion before slipping to Calleis. It doesn’t skip notice how heavily pregnant she is; the angel considers it with narrowed eyes, not in distaste but in thought, before his attention drifts to her own golden stare.
Moose. He can see his grandmother in the mare’s little smile and in her piercing stare. His breath catches in his throat and he finds himself unable to speak for a long moment until he is able to compose himself and hurriedly grope for his own name. ” Tiphon,” he finally says after swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes searching her from underneath his forelock. His heart wants to reach out to her and to cradle her, as though they are meant to be pressed to each other’s sides. Its beat quickens painfully because he feels protective of her but isn’t quite sure why. ”Who—“ he wants to ask of her parents, but it’s as though his tongue swells to prevent him. He hesitates. While the air around them shimmers with his body’s halo, he resigns to simply say, ”I come from the Dale, if you’re interested to know more.”
Why he doesn’t expect her wary response to his approach he doesn’t know. You would think he would be used to it by now, the Chamber had a lingering scent of pine that was far too distinct to be ignored. It also had a terrible reputation and it seemed it was not something even the King could abandon at this point- old habits die the hardest.
His glassy green eyes watch as the dark colored woman backs into the trees, trying her best to mold herself into the shadow and cover they provided. It may have worked in the warmer months when the trunks held leafy branches instead of naked limbs and bare brown bark. Not a shred of moss lingered on the rough surface of the wooden spires, they were all terribly stark and quiet against the snow. Though now as he watches her tremble he isn’t sure if even the leafiest bramble would have hidden her, instead she would likely have sent the bush quaking and given herself away within moments.
He sighed as she looked him over just as he had done to her seconds before. His own eyes were curious, taking in information and noting her condition. Hers though, hers were different her stare was uncertain as if she expecting something or someone else. “Very well, Calleis of nowhere,” no where, not likely but he wouldn’t press the issue. “It seems as though you were expecting someone else? Sorry to disappoint.” Not that he had a moment to inquire further just yet, another was already approaching and the scent of the Dale rushed into his lungs with a fervor. The man to join was the purest porcelain, even greater and more a white than the snow on which Killdare stood. Gold kissed his points and great wings folded against his back and the Chamber King gave a nod as the small duo became a trio.
Without a name he began offering his home as well, starting with ‘Who’ but quickly deciding against whatever was to follow. “Perhaps you would like somewhere besides ‘no where’ to stay?”Now it was up to her, the rounded dark female before them and all Killdare could do was wait.
The bay is massive, intimidating. Calleis body seems to move independently from her mind...but then another stallion is closing in on the two. He is blindingly white with golden points. He reminds Calleis of her sweet mother, angel, a gift to the world that it so wrongly did not deserve. She an not help but stare at him as the thought is penetrating, capturing. The unusual feelings scare the dark mare as she shifts her gaze back to Killdare for mere moments before she steals a glance at the pale stallion nervously.
"You-you don't disappoint." Calleis musters a smile but it is weak and forced. "Tiphon, I would like to hear of the Dale." Her voice is barely above a whisper but she moves from the rough bark of tree stalks by only a few inches...but she was trying. The roundness of her belly is obviously and shameful. The gold gaze of her eyes looks to the massive bay to the leggy winged male. "I am interested in a home...a safe home." Calle tries hard to speak up, to emphasize her need for security but it is whispered away again as she speaks to both males.
At least her tremors had subsided despite the raw coldness of winter biting at the gold tinged mare.
