06-27-2015, 10:41 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-27-2015, 10:46 PM by Erebor.)
 We are at war. There will be scars.
He hadn't set out to recruit today, and yet it had happened all the same. He gives the mare a smile. "It is wonderful. But I might be biased." the last bit is gently teasing, even though he knows that both parts are true: it is wonderful, and he is biased. "We'll head there immediately. But watch your step – some parts of the road are rocky, and I wouldn't want you getting hurt." His tones are serious as he describes the possible danger. He knows what effect it will likely have on her when he speaks of being concerned for her well-being. It doesn't escape him that this girl is following him largely because of him rather than because of the Chamber. It doesn't escape him, but it also doesn't impact him. At least, not dramatically.
And so they start off. Erebor leads the way through the well-worn path. They pass many of the landmarks of Beqanna as they go. He pauses when they reach the outskirts of one particularly notorious area. "This is the field, where the herdless go to seek stallions and kingdoms." It is quiet now, its vast expanse tucked under a blanket of night, but even now a handful of horses are bedding down within it, and some are still chatting quietly. He looks to Zoya with a smile. "It looks like you and I aren't the only night owls."
They continue on, and as they pass the Falls Erebor nods toward it but does not stop by it. "That's the Falls, another one of the kingdoms of Beqanna. They have a magic waterfall that can heal wounds. Although it's recently lost some of its strength." He thinks for a moment of the talks that he'd attended with his uncle as the Chamber had attempted an alliance. He wonders if they've gotten a resolution on that yet.
The Falls fall away behind them, and all that's left is an empty, moonlit trail between them and the Chamber. He picks his way through the path slowly, carefully keeping a (discreet) eye on Zoya. He legitimately doesn't want her to turn her ankle on anything here, and the path isn't the easiest. Finally, he sees the pine forests of the Chamber ahead and knows they're almost across the border.
He pauses then, letting Zoya come up alongside him. "The Chamber." he nods toward the trees. The forest is a mix of living and dead, hulks of burned trees destroyed in volcanic eruptions some 5 years ago are interspersed with younger, newer growth that has only recently pushed through to the surface. To the Prince of Ash, son of the Queen of Ash and Ruin, these trees, both those hulking with death and their counterparts bursting with life, are the epitome of beauty. This is what he was born for, to serve and love this home, to dedicate himself to every single tree.
Atrox's heart may be the one that is literally buried beneath the ground of the Chamber, but his grandson's heart might as well be the same.
With a smile to Zoya, he continues forward, crossing over the border without hesitation. The path grows thin as the trees close in, and it begins to slowly disappear. "Follow me, and you won't get lost." As they move further and further into the kingdom, Atrox's heartbeat grows stronger and stronger. It pulses up through their hooves like a strange earthquake, but one that Erebor is (naturally) entirely comfortable with.
They break into the clearing at the center of the Chamber, and the pine trees fall away behind them. It's here that Atrox's heart is buried, and here that the pulsing of its beat is strongest. Erebor feels his own heart beat in time with his grandfather's, and he sighs with relaxation. Home.
But he does not forget his manners, and it's only a moment before he turns to Zoya. "Well, what do you think?" he asks, curious to know how she has found the journey.
Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
@[Zoya]
@[Stkw]
{hush now watch the stars fall}
That smile made her heart melt. He was such a beautiful man, even in the shadows of the night, and Zoya could only dream of what he might look like glistening in the sun, pulling himself out of a lake or some other body of water. She could imagine the liquid running down his sides, twisting and turning around his powerful muscles before cascading off his stomach and disappearing into the sandy dirt below. The sun would reflect off of his coat, and even soaking wet he would still hold himself with such beautiful dignity and power.
And she was delighted that they would leave right away, but more delighted that he was looking out for her safety. On that note, though, she wanted to be careful not to slow him down; his legs were much longer and he was unquestionably familiar with the terrain in these parts whereas she was not. Zoya nodded in agreement, taking his cautionary statement to heart as best she could.
Then they were off. The sooty buckskin mare followed along happily, occasionally having to shift up into a faster gait to keep up. Erebor pointed out the Field and the Falls. The Falls sounded wonderful and intriguing, but she didn't have long to ponder the thought of a magical waterfall as they kept moving. As they moved on the trail became increasingly more difficult and rocky, and as much as Zoya wanted to talk to Erebor and chat, she had to focus all of her attention on her steps. Despite her best efforts the little mare still managed to trip once or twice, but never seemed to slow down. She wanted to show this new stallion that she was entirely capable of taking care of herself, she wasn't a baby and didn't need to be treated as such. Finally he stops, and Zoya takes her position next to him. Half of everything before them was dead, the other half young but strong. So this was it, the Chambers that he spoke of. Zoya lifted her little head and smiles at him, "It's beautiful Erebor sir."
He smiled back at her (which made her giddy as a schoolgirl inside) and kept moving. After a couple more minutes she utters a few words, "Um, Erebor I can't see the trail anymore..." He promptly replies, reassuring her that she need only stay with him to stay safe. She is happy to oblige. It isn't long before they reach a clearing, and Zoya is happy to be clear of the trees that towered over her frame. Here she could feel what she could only describe as a power within the ground, as if the land itself was alive, feeding on the energies of those who dared entered, while offering protection in return. That was the best Zoya could explain it in her own mind, and it must have been the norm as Erebor seemed un-phased, almost just happy to be home. "Well, um... I'm not really sure what to think. It's just so different from everything I'm familiar with Erebor, but I'm not displeased with it."
tags Erebor, 517 words. notes, _______.
We are at war. There will be scars.
He hadn’t meant to leave her alone. In fact, he hadn't meant to leave the Chamber at all – that had never been part of his plan. He feels moderately guilty, although he can take solace in the fact that she has been here (he hopes) and therefore protected (he hopes).
It is easier to find her now, now that he can seek out heat signatures. He can even feel them sometimes, the way that they move and disrupt the warmth or cold of the air currents. He will get better at it in time, he does not doubt, but for the time being he is a mere journeyman, a novice.
He finds her easily enough, pausing for just a moment as she comes into his heat vision view. She wouldn't see him yet, although she might smell him if she was particularly keen. He's not had an opportunity to see anyone truly react to his new colors, not yet. He hasn't decided what he thinks about them himself. The color is suitable enough; it could have been much worse, he supposes. But it's not the black that they all have become so used to. He wonders if the black will return.
Moving forward, he approaches her without hesitation. His appearance is much different from the last time they met. She is used to knowing him as the handsome black stallion that he was born to be. But right now his coat is wine-red, dark as blood and richly beautiful. His mane and tail are different too; they are striped now, with broad swaths of dark forest green and deep navy blue alternating. His figure is the same: well-muscled, chiseled, sculpted and strong. His bearing is the same: military, rigid, just a hair below too formal. He both looks like himself and does not.
And indeed, he both is himself, and is not.
"Zoya." he greets, approaching her. His voice is the same as it has always been, rich, full and handsome. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to leave you." His voice is thick with apology. "I hope you've been able to be comfortable in the Chamber even while I was…away." the last word is thick in his mouth, hard to say. He isn't sure that away is the proper term for it. In fact, he's quite sure there is no proper term for it. What do you call it when you're ripped away from everything you know by a male fairy? What do you call it when you undergo impossible tortures, but do not die? What do you call it when you're returned only to find you've got a newfound gift, a strange power that you must desperately scramble to learn?
Whatever you call it, that's where he had really been.
And he doesn't have the slightest idea how to explain that concept to any other horse in the world. But he'd have to figure it out, sooner or later. Because god knows, the change in his color is about the opposite of subtle. Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
Just bringing the timeline forward a bit to accommodate Erebor's quest stuff  hope you don't mind! <3
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