.::femme does not dance anymore. Flints strike terra firma with elegant crescendo but scarred appendages do not sashay like they used to. Diadem tilts and watches as her smoky black son trudges beside her. The thick forests harder for his young daggers. Azure blues scan the topography with meaningful glares. This is her new home. The sunset femme had said of the chamber. Fatale has followed and gone separate ways.
Nares flare and drink the air. Burnt. Everything is burnt. ::.
.:: the wall was tiring on chsos. His little daggers clumsily dragging across the topography. Velveteens nip at his rump enticing him onward until the vast expanse declines before them. Audits flit stop finely curved diadem. She does not wail like a banshee. But she calls, vocal chords vibrating. Her ebony bodice slinky on the shadows as she chases her son back on the beaten track. ::,
 We are at war. There will be scars.
Erebor does not dance. He has never danced, because dancing has never been practical and never suited his purpose. He moves with strength and purposeful grace, and now that he's fully grown at three years old, he covers ground very effectively. Efficiency and effectiveness are the hallmarks of his personality. He is, in every way, the good soldier.
He feels the ripples in the heat before he hears the unfamiliar call. It's terribly convenient to know whenever new horses find their way to the Chamber, and to be able to pick them out if he's close enough. But it can still be terribly disconcerting, for him and for them. In this case, he only moves toward the pair (yes, they’re close enough that he can read their heat signature and tell it's a pair) once he's heard the mother's call.
His swift, precise gait carries him to the two of them quickly. He nods to the mother and to her son, stopping a short distance away. He wonders what they'll think of his appearance – his body looks just as it always has, handsome and well-muscled, a fact which he (entirely accidentally) highlights with his constant quasi-military bearing. He is almost always just a hair below being 'at attention'.
But unlike a normal horse, Erebor's coat is currently a deep wine-red. His mane and tail are navy blue and dark forest green. In his coloration, he is the exact opposite of a normal horse. And although he doesn't wear his new gift on his sleeve, the changes are much more than skin deep.
"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Welcome to the Chamber." he greets, dipping his head in acknowledgment. His voice is smooth and sturdy, pleasant to listen to. "My name is Erebor. What may I call you?" he pauses, smiling at the boy who trots beside his mother. "And what may I call your son?" Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
.::femme had bore time on shoulders, waiting. It doesn't take long. Velveteens rub small ebony stud along his tufts of drapery. Cerulean visors then turn to the approaching masc. femme watches with baby blues, attuned. ::.
You. Look like a rainbow.
.:  mall stud worms his way from fatales grasp and marches on fine pins to the odd coloured Masc. ::.
Hi.
.::femme reaches with barred ivories and tugs plume of her Dom before dancing forward few steps. ::.
Thank you, Erebor. I am BrokenStar and this is Black Knight Of Chaos. Or simply Chaos so you don't get tongue tied.
.: oprano vocals giggle. Audits swerve stop fine diadem. ::.
The sunset mare brought us here from the field. Mightily kind to take in s mother and her son. Especially when his father abandoned us.
07-10-2015, 10:17 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-10-2015, 10:18 PM by Erebor.)
 fire burns brightest in the dark She calls him a rainbow, and he can't help but laugh, just a little. It is a funny, and apt, observation. He looks nothing like a normal horse should, and he's keenly aware of it. But he's not about to take offense to the observation either. After all, it's, well, true.
"Yes, I suppose I do. I'm hoping it's temporary." he offers with a wry smile and humor in his voice. Truth be told he is not a fan of his current coloration – he far preferred his old black, and he does truly hope that this is temporary. Although if his choices are keep the coloring and keep his gift, or lose both, he's choose to keep them in a heartbeat. He knows that the value of his gift to the Chamber is worth, well, anything.
The boy comes closer to him, and Erebor offers him a welcoming smile. He hadn't been so good with children before he'd met little Lena on the quest. Now he understands them more (having never really been one himself), and he knows more about what makes them happy. "Hello."
His eyes return to the boy's mother as she speaks, introducing both of them. He laughs with her when she mentions the abbreviation of her son's name. There was never a chance of him getting tongue tied – he's far too poised for that – but it makes him chuckle nonetheless.
He grows quiet again when she mentions the sunset mare, and he immediately understands that she means Engelsfors. He makes a note to seek out the woman and thank her; she's been doing an outstanding job in the field recruiting, and taking these two in is just the latest in a line of good deeds for the Chamber. "Engelsfors." he nods as he says it. "I'm glad she brought you back here. The Chamber is a good place to grow up." he smiles at Chaos, a small, wry smile, as though sharing a secret with the boy. "I'm sorry to hear about his father. I hate to pry, but I can't help but be curious about a stallion who would abandon a family like you and your son." He pauses for just a moment, his eyes on her. "I would hear more of your story, if you would tell it."
erebor heat manipulating lord of the chamber warship x straia
OOC: Hope you don't mind me jumping in?
I had watched the ebony girl and her son enter the Chamber's border. I had watched, with hawk like eyes, because I had spotted something shift in the shadows, in the boughs of the trees. A strange colour, it reminded me of my own failed appearance when I had left that strange world. A dream, it had been a vivid dream (and I had not slept since.) yet the dream had tainted me with it's soiled mark. Black mane with streaks of red, a deep burgundy bodice. Now, those colours have near enough faded, but what stays is the stark viridian green army man on my ribcage. A reminder of something, something important. I just haven't found that out yet.
My sapphire gems watch the stranger lurk his way near, and only when he stops and weaves debonair introductions do I realise who it is. The Prince, the Lord Erebor. I listen for a few passing moments. My shadowy nook proving a well secluded spot, where I can remain unseen and yet hear all. I cock an ear as BrokenStar calls me by some other name. The Sunset Mare. A crooked smirk piques my lips and I choose then to step out from the swath of darkness and gleam in the slithers of light.
My walk is purposeful, each long, willowy thing swallowing the earth in a few steps, before I descend upon the trio. My eyes shifting from the small inky colt to the mare and then finally to the newly painted Erebor. 'A rainbow, perhaps. But it does suit.' I snort, a flutter of golden tipped ears turn towards the Lord Prince. Ad debonair twist of a smile softens my lips. I must find him at some point afterwards, ask what had happened and if, if in some strange dimension I had been involved. Still the twists of black and red streak small slithers of my cream mane and tail, and the burgundy touches my shoulders and points like bloody scrawls. Perhaps he can shed light on what had happened. And why, why I have the addition of something almost personal on my ribcage.
'Welcome, BrokenStar, Chaos. I see you have met our Lord Prince Erebor.' I pause her, idling upon the mare. She had mentioned life before, how she had been abandoned, dropped like a worthless little doll, but with a burden at her side. My blue eyes settled back on the colt and my smile tried to soften, but turned far more haunting than intended. 'Plenty of spots for a young one to explore.'
I turn back to the mare, after Erebor asks if he could pry into her tale; like turning the pages of a well worn book. Careful and tentative fingers searching for the words he needed see. I was diplomatic, but perhaps my disdain for careless brutes did not go unchecked. The Chamber was different, the men here were admirable. Erebor, suave as a knife. Killdare, as shrewd and purposeful as a raven. I had yet to meet the others, but would hazard a guess, they were the same. The Chamber attracted strengths, and was on the upward because of that.
'Men can be ridiculously cruel. You will not find that here, BrokenStar. The Chamber has many admirable men, it certainly opened my eyes to what monsters I had known.' I laugh then, a discord of bubbling hate, marred by nothing but a pretty smile. I turned to Erebor and rolled my shoulders in an elegant yet smooth way. perhaps a shrug, intending to not have been too sexist. After all, females were worse. deceptive spell weavers at their best. I turned my attention back to the new arrival and her son. 'The Chamber will not desert you. Think of it as a close knit group of life-minded individuals.' the name was upon my tongue, bittersweet like poison, yet I refused to say it. Friends. Friends could stab you in the back when you turn to smell the ugly roses of betrayal. No, the residents here were far more than friends, they were companions of a sort. 'I would like to say, that both you and young Chaos will be save here. Perhaps that is too much of a bold statement, talking for us all. But there is a quaint knowing, that we look after our own...' for the good of the chamber.
 
professor of the chamber
He was no man in the end. You though, you won't do that will you?
.:: purr vibrates vocal chords as sashaying appendages dance a little against topography. Arabian diadem aloft as audits twitch. Velveteens kiss Chaos's side, lipping at tufts of tresses. ::.
He must have known I did something wrong during carrying Chaos. He must have known I was weak blood.
.:: audits push back against diadem at thoughts of master Nier. He upped and left leaving his own lead mare and her. femme wondered what had happened to the Iron Lady and her son too. Luck be with this femme. A kingdom and a handsome prince. Fatale lipped her sons bodice gently. ::.
He is blind in one eye.
.:: a weakness an impairment. She shook diadem, waterfall of ebony tresses strung along nape. It twists to meet the sound of flints striking the terra. The sunset girl. Still as bright as the sun. Femme waits until her vocals freeze. ::.
Thank you. My son and I are very grateful, sunset.
.:: femme continues her story. Turning to the handsome stud. Even in rainbow painted pelt, he was even more handsome than master Nier. ::.
Nier had conned me and Blue on bearing him heirs. Strong blood he has assured. I fail to see that now. As soon as he had his way with us he left abandoning his new lead mare and me. We roamed Gemstone in hope of finding him but we never did. What kind of man drops his newborn kids and pregnant ladies?
.:: fatale growls and strikes fore appendage, Flint striking the terra underfoot. Chaos totters on little spindles. Femme nudges him away. Listening to the sunset creature and how here is safe. Chaos played in the footage letting adults converse. ::.
I hope you are right. And yes, the men here from what I can tell are a cut above what I has.
.:: femme giggles and flutters orbs at Erebor. Her spark returning for sashaying hips and lovelorn eyes. ::.
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