watch me close, erebor/any

[Erebor]

We are at war. There will be scars.

Erebor is no natural connector either. However, perhaps unlike Ea, he had willingly thrown himself into the social milieu and learned in a trial by fire of sorts. He'd recently visited every kingdom in Beqanna, including Ea's native Amazons. He'd grown by leaps and bounds during those travels, becoming exactly the right kind of charming, the sincere kind that feels authentic, the kind that makes you feel as though he speaks only truth and cares about you above all else. Perhaps it's his unique blend of handsome charm and rigid, military bearing. For a prince of the evils, he's terribly clean cut.

But at heart, he is not a charmer. He prefers brusqueness and efficiency, and more than anything he prefers things that are beneficial for the Chamber. He would walk through fire for her, risk his life for her – she will always come before any woman to him. He would kidnap, he would fight, he would do absolutely anything that was demanded of him.

And to that end, he often comes to the meadow. Not because he seeks company, but because he seeks strategic advantage. He seeks to learn things from the horses who gather here, to tease out something – anything – that could help put the Chamber on top. He's had middling success thus far, but he believes his strategy is sound, and he is tireless and dauntless when it comes to such matters.

He finds the meadow warm and sunny today, although he wouldn't care if it were dark and cold, or temperate, or anything. Like a true soldier, he is undaunted by complications to his mission. It's just his luck that this day happens to be an agreeable one.

The two year old pauses for just a moment, considering which horse to engage. There are many who are already in conversation, more clustered around the edges of the meadow than in its very heart, and that's to be expected: not all are as Spartan as he when it comes to their comfort. It's only natural to seek shade from the heat.

He is scanning when his eyes come to rest on a lone horse beneath a great tree near the center of the meadow. Her demeanor catches his attention immediately. Over time he's taught himself how to look beyond what seems to be obvious, to develop a warrior's sense of things like posture, and a diplomat's capacity to determine what it might mean. He's not precise enough to pinpoint what her different stance might mean, but he's astute enough to notice it, and to decide that it alone makes her worth talking to.

He approaches with long, easy strides. He is a handsome thing, even at two years old. He'd never been much of a child in either look or action, and that had suited his family and him just fine. He is entirely black, without markings, and his coat shines dully, like metal that is only vaguely polished. His muscles are firm and defined, the well-toned evidence of his frequent practice sessions. But his defining feature is his bearing. He moves and stands like a soldier, straight and proud of posture, projecting an almost military bearing. He developed the habit as any military-educated boy would tend to do, entirely unaware that it also makes him appear at best advantage, playing up all that is handsome about him.

As he nears the girl beneath the tree, he catches her eye and offers a subtle dip of his head, a gentle acknowledgement that is polite but not deferential. He notes the way that her eyes seem to shift colors, and he makes a note that she may be more than she seems – but he is not one to be bothered by traits. He steps beneath the shade of the tree, closing easily to conversation distance.

"Good morning." he greets, his voice deep and resonant, older than it should be for his age. He notes the smell of the jungle on her, and files it away in his mind. "Mind if I join you?"

Erebor

Native Prince of the Chamber

warship x straia