[private] stay close to me while the sky is falling. || nymphetamine only

[Misra]

stay close to me while the sky is falling

   She is grace, beauty and eloquence personified - with gentle curves and a slender figure, she is exquisite femininity encasing an otherwise troubled, brewing mind. The heart that lay trapped within the tight confines of her rib cage aches with the unending agony of prying loneliness, and her soul pines for something beyond her superficial exterior. In the heavy weight of evening's blanket of stars, she remains quiet and idle, nestled between the many pines littered throughout the dwelling of her still charred, burnt abode. 

   The blinding light of the burning tree had since waned, leaving little but fading embers behind, dredging the dense thicket in its cloak of darkness. The canopy overhead shields her away from the light of the moon, and so she remains, shrouded by darkness and plagued by a longing she cannot quite quench.

   With a heavy breath, she emerges at last, too restless and uneasy to remain rooted for too long. She tucks her tightly wound wings tighter against her body as she weaves through the tightly knit foliage - the grace that fate had so kindly bestowed upon her falters now; her plumage is nothing to balk at and navigating with it in such tight confines still alludes her at times. Atop her skull, two winding obsidian horns shimmer beneath the brief rays of moonlight that flicker between the more sparse branches overhead. The stagnant warmth of summer lingers, trapped by the foliage near to the forest floor, and a gentle sheen of sweat lingers on her pelt.

   His scent is heavy in the air, and for a long moment, she settles to indulge in the heavy scent of his sweat and - blood? Her brows furrows in disdain and with a heavy sigh lingering on her breath, she presses forward, pushing through the thicket to find the necromancer looming on the other side. There is something heavy in the air, and for a moment, she recoils - but she knows it is too late to turn away and hide away in the shadows.

  The weight of her body has shifted too much of the moist soil, and dry, brittle twigs crack beneath, giving her position away. A lump grows in her throat, but she presses on in spite of it. The stench of metallic copper weighs on her, and she moves closer, observing the way his mahogany pelt hides away the various welts and gashes that litter his body. Her breath is warm against his skin, and finally she breathes, "Nymphetamine. You're hurt. What can I do?"

Misra

[Nymphetamine]

Nymphetamine

Nothing was right anymore he had climbed so high, only to see his growth cause destruction in its wake. Keeva left, Mast abandoned him (though deep down he knew that wasn’t truly the reality), Kimber...well that was a mess, the raid had been a total failure for him and resulted in completely angering the fae that protected Beqanna. For the blood bay,  the powers that be removing the fire from the tree was a personal affront. Nymphetamine felt it was his fault and it had sent him into a spiral. He moved through the pine forest limping, wounds still fresh from the raid on deserts. His shame had kept him from seeking a healer, he felt it was his duty after all the damage he had caused. The summer heat had made everything crisp and soon the rich green would leave the plants not blessed ever green. The distinct crunch of undergrowth resounded under his hooves, and he was glad there was no other around to witness his pathetic state.

Chamber felt different to him now, and he wanted nothing more than for everything to return to how it was before, to the protection of the forever-fire and life without the self-inflicted shame. But there was nothing to do now, he would harness his guilt in time, but for now he would settle for the solitude the forest offered. The Governor found a hidden area, and laid down there to rest his sore muscles and sleep away his disgrace.--

The sound of hooves and their correlated vibrations stirred the necromancer from his slumber.  His eyes opened to the evening sky and the crisp breeze that worked its way through the trees. He quickly righted himself, well as quickly as his stiff sore muscles would allow, and listened in to locate where the sound came from. He was less worried about it being an unfriendly once and more worried about it being someone who would want him to social and jolly, or his normal self, or really just do anything. He was in no condition to lead his diplomats or to help the residents with their petty little problems.  The wind changed direction and brought with it a scent one that was familiar but not overly so. Someone he knew, but hadn’t been around in recent months, and he only hoped that if it was a resident that they wanted nothing from him, or that he would realize who is was prior to them seeing him. But a moment later the frame of Misra came forward, his eyes lift to hers and the hesitation was not something he could have missed.  The concern that filled her orbs was obvious and her nares flared with an obvious rush of emotion. Her pistons carried her closer as she inspected him. He knew there were those injured worse than he, but she probably was unaware.

The gash at the base of his neck and slashed marks across his left shoulder were the most garish of his wounds, the interior tears and strains to his deep muscle tissue were much more painful. He shifted his weight clumsily, in a lackluster attempt to prove he was ok, but it was no use, her graceful words washed over him causing his “straw and mud defenses” to crumble. "The physical pain will heal, but I doubt I will truly be ok until I have righted my wrongs and returned Chamber to the good graces of the fae. Just leave me be Misra, there is nothing for you here." Nymphetamine was weary, which was evident in his voice and glum expression. What a pitiful sort, if Misra had known her Governor was is such a state, he was sure she would have done an about face.  But it was too late, it was all too late, and Nymph was holding his mind together with toothpicks and dental floss.    

Like a thorn to the Holy Ones

ooc: day late and a dollar short. but here it is... :| haha