Straia had her own master, of a sort, anyway. She would be lost without it, truly. What would the painted queen do if she could not serve the Chamber? That has always been her life. Even as a child, she served (albeit sometimes loudly, playing at being more spoiled princess than she actually was). As a child, there was no doubt where she would live. Even her father, who used all this children as pawns, trades with other kingdoms for peace, had not tried to send her away. For one, she wouldn’t have gone, no matter what he did. He could have exiled her; still she wouldn’t have gone. And two, even he didn’t want her to leave. She was too dedicated, too loyal to lose.
She cannot imagine life without the Chamber. She would be nothing and no one without it. Certainly, she could live somewhere else. She could serve and perhaps rule. But she cared little for other lands, less for other horses. The Chamber, with the heart that beat beneath the earth and the misty pines that stood sentry to invaders was the only place she loved. The only thing she truly loved. No horse could rank higher in her esteem than her home. Though there was one that came close. But he’s a different story.
Straia comes to the field mostly because she doesn’t come enough. In truth, someone in the kingdom is often out here long before she has a moment to herself to consider making the journey. The ravens keep her informed of who is where, and it is quite useful. She doesn’t waste time with a journey that she does not need to make, because the painted Queen has little free time to spare. Such is the life of a Queen, and she does not mind. The Chamber flourishes every day, and she cannot wish for any other life.
Today though, it is actually not day at all. Her kingdom has settled into it’s nightly routine. The ones that do not sleep patrol the borders, and the rest settle in for some rest. She finds that tonight she is not particularly tired, and the ravens have mentioned a four-legged snake in the field. Interesting. Straia knows it’s a horse, not actually a snake. Perhaps this one is scaled, perhaps just slippery. The ravens aren’t exact in their grasp of language.
She decides wings are enough for the evening, and she sprouts a pair of overlarge raven wings and takes off. A few of her raven’s flock around her, making the journey as well. However, when the bay and white mare lands, the ravens stay in the sky, heading off in different directions to scout for anything that Straia might find interesting.
She lands some distance from the mare, another already approaching her. She catches the words, though doesn’t join the group until the tail end of Chezter’s speech. “Straia, from the Chamber,” she offers, and then settles in see what this mare in question (scaling, she notes) is looking for.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission