"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She leads the mare in relative silence back to the Chamber, adding a few details about the place. Nothing much, because the mare hadn’t asked, and Straia didn’t get the impression she much cared what she served. So long as she had something to do, something that wasn’t necessarily going to keep her hands clean. As she usually does, she describes the Chamber as determined. They were not hell bent on killing or causing chaos, but they certainly weren’t against it either. They lived for the betterment of the Chamber, whatever that meant, exactly.
The trip is longer on foot then flying, but in the end, it is not terribly long. The Chamber is somewhat conveniently located near enough to the field. The tall pines rise up in the distance, growing larger with each step. They are still small, in truth, compared to what they will become. But no longer is the Chamber made of ash, the pine forest charred and broken. The kingdom has healed, and everything is growing back.
She slips through the pine forests easily, slower than normal to let the other mare follow, but she doesn’t look back. She expects that the mare will follow, and if she chooses otherwise, it’s not Straia’s problem. Soon enough, the drumming of the heartbeat beneath their feet becomes noticeable, and the trees begin to thin. She turns to face the scaled mare finally with a slight quirk of her lips. “Welcome to the Chamber.”
She gives the mare a moment, before adding, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She lets out a call for the resident ghost, expecting that he’s lurking not far off. She’d been thinking more about the mare and her desire to serve, and Straia isn’t sure she’s the right master. Straia adopts pets, the kind that wander away and come home when called. She’s never had a complete puppet, and perhaps will not have the time. After all, she is Queen of a kingdom, and rather busy. But she knows someone who might make a very good master indeed, if that is truly what this mare wants.
08-08-2015, 02:48 PM (This post was last modified: 08-08-2015, 02:49 PM by cellar.)
I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She follows the queen and listens to the infrequent words of the other girl but she makes even fewer replies. Mostly she just gives a short hum of acknowledgement or absent mindedly nods in understanding with each statement. Cellar's slinking motions never tire, never fall back as she's led to her new home by the other. Her bright eyes glance up momentarily as she begins to catch the scent of pines on the wind. They loom ahead, learning how to tower over others but still jagged against the peaceful sky, but she doesn't seem to mind them. Or at least, her pace does not falter in hesitation, if that can be taken as a sign of her thoughts.
Her head slowly lowers as they draw near the kingdom's borders until the pines are touching along her back, their needles tickling against her spine. They almost feel like greedy fingers examining a new toy. Still, Cellar does not stray from the queen's path but rather follows just as before. She narrows her eyes in suspicion of the thrumming beat beneath her hooves but then her attention is stolen away by Straia's words. Cellar lifts her head as they break through the trees and into the Chamber itself.
Someone to meet? Cellar only tilts her head slightly to the left in response and waits patiently as the other gives her call. Her ears twitch slightly to try and catch some sound but she's not terribly concerned. If it had all been a cruel trick and this was to end in her demise, she would simply shrug and accept it as punishment for not hunting down Tyrael. Life isn't that precious to one who's never truly lived.
"I am.. honored?" she says uncertainly, still tilting her head now as the moon catches those scales along her cheeks and legs. Her eyes do not glimmer in the dark as her father's often did, but she still managed to be one of the more unsightly things that creeped about. A thought occurs to her, however, and she slowly straightens up as she finds it important enough to speak without provocation.
"I feel a warning is necessary, Straia," she begins before taking a single step closer. "Do not touch my skin. It is... unsafe."
Cellar lacks the vocabulary to describe her skin but she hopes to get the point across all the same. No one ever taught her the words 'barbs' or 'venom', but she knows very well that her body brings death. Tyrael had laughed and laughed when he discovered this about her. His delight still excites her while also making her bones shudder in splendid horror.
I could give you my body, my flesh,
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
She’s right, he’s not far off. Lurking in his graveyard of pine, the Chamber wraith is leaning against some broken trees and rubbing against them to rid himself of a bothersome itch. Something had bitten him in the night, a spider most likely, and the venom had worked it’s way into his skin leaving nothing but irritation behind. He sighs softly as he hears her call, giving a last determined rub against the bark but the itch remains. When the wraith leaves the shadows, his hooves still not accustomed to the beating earth, there is annoyance in the depths of his red eyes. Easily he spots Straia and the strange creature standing beside her. His hide ripples as the itch spreads, muscles spasming in response, and continues to twitch as he ambles closer to them. Despite the annoyance he is suddenly focused on the stranger, for her scales have caught in the moonlight.
”You don’t usually bring home lizards..” He states dryly, knowing she has called him over for a purpose and has a feeling it has to do with the scaled mare. He had gotten close enough to catch the warning that falls off alligator girl’s lips and he sarcastically asks, ”Let me guess, if I touch you I’ll break into a million pieces. Maybe catch an STD or other deadly disease. No need to be coy about it. Exactly what makes you just so… Unsafe.” Red eyes narrow on her as he awaits her answer, expecting something stupid but there’s just a tinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Maybe she had a really good trick up her sleeve.
What good would it do Straia to kill the girl now? It wouldn’t anger another kingdom, wouldn’t unsettle Beqanna. No one would notice that the gray, scaled girl had gone missing. And Straia had no lust for useless deaths. She only did what would serve the Chamber, and random killing did little to help the kingdom. They were not a particularly bloodthirsty lot (though one did enjoy bunnies, and others certainly had blood on their hooves). Certainly, there’d be no mass killing pit here. She knew of the slave pens that had one existed, but those had burned to the ground in the lava. But slave pens didn’t mean death. They were simply a great way to send captive’s back home a little more destroyed than when they had arrived.
The girl doesn’t seem overly worried though. She’s either accepted her uncertain fate with a mere tilt of the head or knows that Straia is unlikely to have led her to her death. Recruits are more useful than bodies. But then the girl speaks again, and the bay and white queen pricks her ears forward in interest. Unsafe? Oh. She rather liked the sound of that. She was about to ask for more details, but like the ghost he is, Gryffen slips into the group.
He is mildly annoyed, but the girl catches his attention fast enough. As Straia thought might happen. She grins slightly at him. “I think she’s more like a poison dart frog,” she says, mostly to Gryffen, but with a quirk of her lips in the girls direction. They were not that unlike Tyrael in this. They enjoyed treasures such as this girl, and would find good use for her, certainly. So long as they could get her to stay. “Gryffen, Cellar. Cellar, Gryffen.”
She pauses for a moment, before adding, “Cellar is looking for a new master to serve. I offered, but the more I think on it, the more I think I would be rather terrible for the job.” She falls silent then, certain Gryffen knows exactly where she is going. Though she does give him something of a pointed look and adds, “Unless you only like broken things.”
Cellar wasn’t broken. No, Cellar was useful and magnificent, with her unsafe skin and her desire to serve. The girl was exactly what the Chamber needed. She turns her attention back to the girl. “I am curious what exactly you mean by unsafe.” It’s clear Straia isn’t worried, she’s excited.
I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She turns her head to the twitching boy with the aggravated look worn across his face without apology. Her gray ears turn to catch his words as her eyes examine him carefully. Cellar does not know some of the words he uses but she says nothing of them. She would prefer to be silent and ignorant than to open her mouth and reveal even a hint of weakness within her. 'Coy' was a word often used by others to describe her and she still has not decided whether or not she enjoys such a thing.
Before she can make her reply, the queen is speaking to him instead. Poison dart frog? She'd never heard of them. Then again, she'd never seen the Amazons or any of the wildlife that inhabited that kingdom despite how well she might fit in there. Her eyes focus back on the pale boy as his name is spoken and she offers a slight nod of her head. Gryffen. She mumbles the name to commit it to memory but says nothing else on the matter.
The mention of broken things makes her curious of his past playthings. There is a hint of this intrigue in the gleam of her eyes, suddenly so wicked and wild for the idea. Tyrael had promised he would break her some day but he was such a handsome fool. Cellar had every intention of shattering herself without allowing him to lift a finger. She doubts this one would be so dear to her but she has the patience to learn from others.
Her eyes drift back to the other girl as she blinks slowly, considering which words she could possibly use to describe her affliction. "When I am touched, there is.. blood," she begins with slight hesitation as she tries to recall her past mistakes (victories?). "They scream, they bleed, they die." If Cellar knew words like hemolysis or hemotoxins, it might help, but she only knows this fraction of what she can do. Tyrael never cared to help her manage those tiny barbs across her skin but rather preferred her dangerous and out of control.
I could give you my body, my flesh,
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
His ears prick forward at the mention of a poison dart frog. He reconsiders Cellar with less aggravation. Unlike the sheltered bitch before him, he had gotten to know most of Beqanna’s lands including the jungle his pretty little half-sister once ruled. Rumor said she had come back also, both of them unable to keep from crawling back to what they knew best. “I like useful things, the packaging is irrelevant.” He murmurs quietly to his painted Queen. Thinking about it now, it was rather funny that he had never referred to her as the power behind the Chamber nor had been introduced to her as such. And yet he knew without a doubt that she ran this place from day one. It was the way she held herself, you just knew. In Straia was a kindred spirit, they just went about the business aspect a little differently.
There is an obvious change in the wraith when Cellar goes into detail about her affliction. His eyes seem to darken from ruby to blood red. A slow smirk spreads on his lips, you can practically see him rubbing his hands with glee. ”Is that so?” He asks aloud, mostly to himself instead of their benefit. For the cogs are already turning with ideas. This lethal weapon just laid before him and Straia was giving him full permission to use her at will. ”Cellar is it? I’ve got just the thing in mind for you..” He’s unaware of the girls past and the way she has been played for another’s amusement. Knowing she has already been primed to be out of control would have only been the cherry on top. Since he doesn’t know this, it’s time to test out the theory. Just how willing was she to serve for another? He steps closer to her, taking in her scales carefully but keeping a safe enough distance. ”How do you know you can do this? Better yet….Can you show me?” His voice is now tinged with curiosity, excitement. It wouldn’t be worth his time to buy the damn thing without giving it a good test drive first.
He doesn't wait for her response, instead he gives her one last lingering look before glancing at Straia. "Wait here." He could rustle up a test subject in a jiffy.
