// grey skies will chase the light away // any

[Engelsfors]

(Time is expandable, right? Even though she's in the Quest, I really wanted to post  )

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings I was slowly acquainting myself with The Chamber. The nooks and the crannies, the dark little hovels nestled within the pines, they all were being stored in my memory bank. The pine, menthol like, strong and pleasant, was already ingrained in my mind, and upon my skin. The dying spindles crunching beneath my feet as I walked, an easy, almost sluggish pace winding around the trunks. I stopped every now and again, rubbed the course bark with my velvet muzzle, feeling the memories of this place, the ash still hanging in the air, the scars on the ground. I was attempting in all vain purposes of trying to understand this place, why it pulsed beneath my hooves in strange little rivulets. Beqanna was entirely different, a whole other tale in an old tome. This place, it had magic woven in it's tapestry. The horses here, they were gifted (or cursed if you like) with strange what I would have called oddities. Wings adorned from their backs. Multi-changing eyes. strange powers pulsing in their veins. It all seemed so unnatural, yet mightily curious. I was always the curious one, but then again, you never did learn if questions were not asked, right? The moon was up, suspended in the sky, dark clouds shifted, silver and a deep, dark grey. It covered the crescent shape and all of it's light. As it did, I found my golden frame glowed against the bark, what eerie slithers of light slipped through the canopies of the trees, made me stand out like a golden pound coin dropped into a well of bronze pennies. I aimlessly wandered the shadows, my azure gaze holding the clearing in my sights. My nostrils breathing in all the rich, earthy scents of autumn. The oranges and browns beneath my feet flurried a little as my willowy limbs swept them in their wake. I trotted, lofty frame swinging with each steady stride, I bounced between the trunks, swerving in and out, keeping my eyes attuned onto the clearing, around the borders. Night time crept with unwanted visitors; well that was the normal thing that occurred. Night walkers and stalkers, they came alive at night. One could say the same for I. My gilded form went up a gear and I felt the cool night air hit me. Bittersweet kisses upon my hide as I followed the clean cut path around the clearing, my gossamer threads lying flat, rippling like liquid gold. I came alive at night; the cooler air was nice against my skin, the calmness, the tranquility, it allowed me to remove my masks for a moment or two, completely lose myself in the stillness, the serenity. It is often in the dead of midnight I came upon epiphanies. My mind unlocking for the few hours of peaceful silence, when I was allowing myself to sift through the black and white memories of old. They flicker, and at times had made a slight ache effect my heart. It dulls now, and every memory that flashes before me, like visions of the past, they do nothing but push me forward. Forward into my new life, into this life. Engelsfors, of The Chamber. For now, for now I am what has been shoved down my throat with silver spoons and golden forks. I am aristocratic, I am debonair. But sometimes, sometimes I just wish I could be Engelsfors. The young, carefree, Engelsfors. Who was lost the day she left the womb. My young face, bright eyed and smooth, stares out into the moonlit dell. Just as the clouds shift once more and the silver glow meets the Chamber with an eerie, yet comforting feeling, I step out and my body is illuminated. Gold and cream, an ethereal ghost, some sort of golden ghoul that haunts the lands. A small smile, if only a gentle tug at my lips, crosses my face. For once, in a very, very long time, I feel serenity's warm fingers message my body, unknot tensed muscles and cold, aching bones. There is a feeling of... home, here. and I don't want that to leave, not yet anyway. even the angels start to fall

[Killdare]

It took him most of the evening to make the passes of the Chambers borders. Partly because there was a bit of land to cover, and partly because he was just too damn big to weave through the trees. By the time he had made it back to his starting point, the autumn moon was high above the treetops.

What little light filtered through the pines, gave view to his crashing through the trees. He was loud, he was clumsy and he was displeased. He had never had this issue before, though never before had he taken up residence in a forest. He found it irritating that he had yet mastered the totems, he couldn't slink and weave through the wood as his Queen did. He couldn't silently stalk or appear like the Prince Erebor. No, no simple task was he handed, but complain not. Not out loud anyways, as always he had kept his mutterings to his own inner voice. Chiding himself with each step, a snapped branch here, scraping his shoulder there. He needn't worry about intruders, the noises he made as he crashed around were like to send them running long before he ever arrived.

It was maddening really, especially for one who prided themselves on their performance. He would watch the others sometimes, through a burning glare. The bulk of his body had yet fail him a scuffle, yet it inhibited him to cross a simple path. It was then he noticed something new. No, he smelled someone new. Female, obviously he snorted as he mentally told himself this. Well, he could not resist a fresh trail.

As luck would have it, he had neared the meadow, and thus the tree line had thinned out considerably. He sniffed at the air, nares flared wide as he tilted his head this way or that. He lifted his crown up, before turning it to the ground, a single golden hair caught on a twig. It was not terribly long after that, that his nose was no longer necessary and his eyes could do the searching for him just the same. A speck of gold luminosity, against a sea of black and deep greens. He stopped and beheld her for a moment, carefully looking over her form, noting things which he found were appealing and those which he found could use improvement. The hair, the flowing locks of spun gold, why? What purpose did it serve to have such long tendrils cascading from ones neck?

Not a single scar either he noted, though that could mean many things, his sister though he loathed to recall, had but the one. It perhaps would be odd, to approach and see him standing there with his scrutinizing gaze. To be seen looking upon a mare in such an objective way, and not  just gawking at her loveliness, especially during the breeding season. Actually the scents bothered him not, that too was part of his training. One couldn't be losing their head in the heat of battle simple because some mare had come into her estrus. By now she had probably seen him, and likely thought him rude to stand and stare.

He gave a short whicker, stomping a feathered pillar.

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings The way the stillness of the night unknit each taut sinew, like strung bow strings, loose and flaccid. My gold skin ripples softly, the damn autumn flies as damning now as they were in summer. My skin twitches, shivers against them, as well as the spindles of pine that fall from the Giants above. Autumn was one of my favourite seasons. It was deliciously cool, the earth moist beneath well worn hooves, and the air had that electric zing, winter was promised yet summer was far behind. The colours, they made my memories brighter. Some of them stronger, unnerving me slightly. Watching them play out like a silent black and white movie, it made my eyes twitch, my facial muscles taut. Some memories were like secrets, they were never meant to surface. My masquerade is free tonight; on my own I show no pretence. I am Engelsfors, the fallen, the angel with the demoness grin. A seductress with the morals of a princess. I contradicted myself in so many ways. I'm sure if I were to look deeper at my reflection it would be truly as murky as the pond waters depth. An ear catches the crunch, the crash of bark. Rotating left, then right. I crane my head, eyes drinking in the dark landscape. The pale slithers of light brightening parts but shadowing others. If were not wolves, I had heard their lonely howl earlier this evening and they were not close by. This was something else, no, this was someone else. My nostrils flutter, exposing the pink innards, I inhale deeply. Pine and earth, dank and dark. The Chamber had its own perfume, rich and pungent. I knew already that whoever was having an argument with the trees had spent a little time here already. The pine seemed to have a way of knitting in with everyone's scent. I step further out, turning around in s graceful pirouette. Long, willowy legs shifting my lofty frame. I extend my neck, threads of ghostly white dance like feathers in the autumn breeze. My cobalt gaze watches, waits. Tail flickering behind me. I waited, watched like a ghostly sentinel until finally something came into view. Twigs and needles adorned him. A mess of hair and woodland. I breathed him in. Rugged and smooth, well worn like leather and rich like the moist earth underfoot. I step closer, long strides consuming the ground. I am bold as the brassiest of birds, and slip easily into my many facades. Beautiful as the mysterious moon hanging in the sky, and equally unattainable, I stride closer. I watch him, scrutinise him with a keen eye. Every inch of him mentally stored, his scent captured and held in a pristine glass jar. I tilt my crown to the right, to the left, wisps of pale forelock overshadowing one of my eyes. 'The night hasn't faired well for you.' my tone is light, sweet rose petals falling at the feet of many, but with the undertones of the sharp thorns in my haunting smile. 'The trees... A burden as well as a safety measure.' I turn a little on my forehand, shifting closer, azure eyes kept upon his. I am neither condescending nor light witted, I simply spoke with a haunting smile, a little tweak on my lips that broadens ever so slightly. 'Engelsfors. I am Engelsfors. And you?' one for little words, but the pleasure of a lady's smile, however brief, makes up for drilling sentences of pointlessness. I waver closer, sidestepping here, a little quiver of my tail there. I point to his side with my velveteen muzzle. 'Having arguments with trees.' I laugh, small, light. Like a dying birds last little cluck of breath. I shake my own mane, pine needles and thorns loosening and falling to my feet. I can relate to a degree. Being taller than most, was quite burdensome in a land build full with cast bark and boughs. even the angels start to fall

[Killdare]

He stood, an earth colored statue against the failed light of the moon. He had roughed himself up, a disheveled mess, staring across the clearing at the golden doe. A crisp fall breeze caused the only movement. His mane and feathers that were not currently snagged with twigs gently blew where they were bid.

Looking at her with a narrowed gaze, he watched as she closed the distance that separated them. A straw colored tower, bigger than himself even, supported by lean muscle. An oddly sinewy form she had for such a large being, he thought as she made her way to him. She honed in quickly, their separation ending as she seemed to forget all formalities. Perhaps, she had not been raised accustomed to leaving a healthy
berth between herself and others. Perhaps, he had been raised with too many. Whatever the case, he didn't deem it appropriate.

Once she spoke, he thought her smug. "The night hasn't faired well for you." A pointed statement, one to which he mentally responded with Obviously. She glided ever gently nearer, inch by inch an odd behavior the way he viewed it. Flicking her tail, twisting her form this way and that. What the hell was she doing? He had grown up with an older sister, had witnessed her games and facades. This was looking to him very similar, but she was doing it why?

Chocolate oculars sought to derive a meaning to this dance, this display going on around him. One he had no control over, that made him feel awkward and annoyed. She was flapping about, looking at him strangely, his nares flaring in response. A breath of air dispelled from them, before he cleared his throat. "Its Killdare", he returned in short, flicking his tail at insects. "Fights with trees", she asked, her laughter tinkling into his head.

"I can assure you it is entirely unintentional, though I'm not sure to assume the same..", he drawled off, the sentence hanging as he eyed her with a furrowed stare. Otherwise completely ignoring her routine, he moved the conversation along, it could be far more productive he decided.

Moving his bay from around, and then past her, he circled around. Once again placing a healthy, and dignified gap between them."How do you do it?"he questioned, after all he had determined they were herd mates. The Chamber had made its mark and its scent to claim her, of that he was sure."The trees," he gestured with a nodding of his crown,"how are you so, well...large and move through them so easily?" It was evident that he was irritated by this fact. If she could do it, then why couldnt he? Well, he wanted to learn, even if that meant taking instruction on the matter from someone taller than he.

((Notes: he just cant understand why anyone would behave in such a way XD))

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings Midnight brings feathered raven wings upon trees, their eerie caw a deathly promise; I remembered them cries so vividly that autumn night. The wind had ice strewn within, it chilled me to the marrow of my bones. He hadn't been the first and he was certainly not the last. I refused to be intimidated by fickle words and false promises. If one were to promise death, then one should talk with daggers, not stuttering sentences. My mind shifted, gates opening and squeaking closer upon rusty hinges. Memories came at such poor times. Such as conversations with strangers, the slightest familiarity brings about flashes of my past. It takes the ticking hand of the clock to push them aside. My lofty head, set upon my long, willowy arch, sat square. Eyes glistening sapphire in the slithers of silver light. They flash with s thoughtfulness, a hint of recollection, but it's gone within the next blink. 'Killdare. Charmed, I'm sure.' black magic and sleek velvet, my voice is a shadow of respect. A slight incline of my muzzle. He's Chamberling, it's all over him -- of course it was an obvious motion. I could not help but roll my shoulders with another airy chuckle. He's visibly irked, the way his eyes demean me, turning into slits. It's an interest I take quite smoothly, to my locked up heart. 'Whatever the intention, the bedraggled look does little for you.' my voice is smooth, yet course like crushed velvet. There's little harm in the silver voice, golden undertones of well placed wit. I flicker each earlobe, a gesture of humour. My eyes roaming him once more, eyeing up the things you miss on first inspections. I have a terrible habit of that; analysing everyone's strengths, their weaknesses. I am good at reading the very fine print that is woven in each and every muscle. I notice in Killdare, he is irked by me, by my hypnotic little actions. I have no real reason, I'm young, I gave itches beneath my skin that even course bark won't reach. I'm positive those itches were for life itself. I cannot stay still for long. I'm still growing into the long limbs and sleek body, standing still just makes it that little bit harder. 'Compliments are not your forte, are they, Killdare?' there is a smirk twisting on my salmon lips, a voice cool like the autumn breeze, and crisp like the decaying leaves underfoot. 'One cannot simply say a lady is... Large. It simply isn't done, unless you'd wish for a... Sharper response.' I intend on enticing him, if nothing more than a little amusement, if not alluring, it is a vex to him, which to me is all the same. I sidestep once more, the more he steps away, the closer I get, yet remaining in a few feet distance. I'm not imprudent enough to get my hide snapped at; you can't stay flawless while being stupid now, can you? 'I can't simply give away secrets now, can I?' long legs stretch out beneath me, gangly in places, sloping smooth with muscle in others. I cock my head, doing so causes the curtain of ghostly white to conceal my sapphire gem eyes. Watching him, analysing him. It's s burden being so tall, and I'm only going to get taller. I'm sure in a few years time (if we both remain in the chamber) we will be having a similar conversation, and he still vexed yet awed by my loftiness. 'Grace, Killdare. You are obviously one for a few spars,' I noted his scars earlier on, the ash lines against his earthy bay skin. 'Do you bulldoze right into them? Or do you act quick on your feet, light, quick?' I pause, dropping my gaze as well as my pink tinged muzzle. Of course, a simple lady telling a sturdy man how to fight; when it was evident he'd seen a few already. 'Beg pardon, Killdare. I mean no ill of my words.' I bring my gaze once more upward, towards him, keeping both orbs trained on his own. Ghostly, haunting. Perhaps a little unnerving, my unblinking gaze never wavering, instead the smooth line of my smirk returns. 'See the woods as your challenger, every trunk another opponent. Would you let them argue with you, like the trees? I am hard pushed to believe that...' even the angels start to fall

Haha. She is an ever changing flower. She's interesting to play. I love Killdare Engelsfors is having a little bit of fun.

[Killdare]

The briefest moment she was there, and then she was not. Well, of course she was there physically. Mentally the briefest flicker in her eyes. Fleetingly, before it was gone.

She jibes at his appearance, laughter. Laughter at everything he thinks, watching her closely. "Oh, you dont like it?" a sideways smirk is given. "Lucky for us all, I am not here to look pretty.", he eyes her pointedly.

She speak of compliments, I very womanly thing to discuss he thinks. He considers this thought for a moment. He was unsure he had ever complimented a female in his very short life, was that odd? He wouldn't know, nor did he have anything to compare this to. His father did little to flatter his mother, besides to plant his seed in her. Their relationship based on nothing more than a need to spread his lines, to build worthy sons and daughters too, if it came to that. He had been told his mother was chosen due to her size and coloring. A painted Vanner mare, the size and bulk he intended to pass on to a son, along with his own knack for combat. Killdare, unsurprisingly, saw little use for compliments in such a situation. She seemed to dislike being called large, but she was. It was the truth and he was rather apt to put things plainly, speaking his mind rather than hold his tongue.

Was she shamed to be built this way? To be an ocean liner amidst a sea of yachts? At this he tsked. "And what would you have me say?" he dared goad her. "How ever does a delicate flower such as yourself wave amidst the trees?" If he had brows one would be raised as he dipped his head to peer at her, as if to say Really? "No, my statement is valid. I am large, you are large. Else wise I would have no reason to inquire. Else wise it may be an indecent statement, as it stands, I find it an honest one."

She continues to skirt around him, just out of reach too. Had she been nearer, he might consider losing his head and skinning her rear. She was not entirely stupid, he decided.

Bulldozing or being quick. It was common knowledge that he was not quick, due to his size he could not dance around his opponent. He would have looked a lumbering fool, attempting to jump around like a grasshopper. No, he in fact did use his size, in truth it was his best defense. He was not made to BE graceful, not like one would think. He was made to crush. Rather than wait for the fight to begin, to be riddled with useless circling, he would end it. What good was his opponent, when his chest had caved in? No, Killdare did not Bulldoze per say, he broke. He used his weight to gain his outcome, enough force, enough weight on the right spots..That was were they honey was. He was particularly fond of laming a horse. Though this was not to say that he couldn't move around at all, he simply wasn't light and quick. He was quick enough when need be, but because he knew better, he used what the Gods had given him. How would one succeed if not by using what they had? He didn't know.

A courtesy, did it just escape her maw? A paradox she was.

"If they were my opponent, I would break them where I wished. My desire is to not inflict them such damage." An odd, seemingly misplaced comment coming from him. Had the trees claimed him so thoroughly? The gears turning were plastered visibly on his face, the problem working itself out.

"I need to touch them, but not break them." He was thoughtful as he said this, his chocolate eyes looking tender, almost loving had he known what it was. In truth, the idea had not before occurred to him. He hadn't made an effort not to break them, just to get past them. He was going about this all wrong. He couldn't not touch the closely placed pillars, he was too wide. He would have to move with them, to roll his body off them. To touch, but not to break. He peered at the female looking down at her curious eyes, she seemed to linger a never ending stare up at him. Had she, did she just?..No, he snorted she hadn't helped him. He would have thought of that all his own surely. He declined to commend her.


((note: bah! he is a little toot! your writing is lovely btw))

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings Caramel skin was peppered with a long, almost delicious shiver. From every little nodule in my spine to the knitted structure of my hooves. It was either the autumn's bitter promise of w winter on its way, or the sharpness in the air current. The shiver came from his words, honest, blunt. He did not beat around the bush per say, he, just like with the trees bulldozed right through. My lips twitched, tweaked ever so slightly, a crooked little smirk, that soon dispersed. Idly my pendulum tail swished to and fro: bothersome flies and their pestering. Perhaps there was something else? I had not met one yet who spoke as honest as the lines in the bark of the tree. Everything in the world is beautifully carved deception, dressed as the truth. It refreshes me somewhat. And of course I had to let him now. He may not be one for compliments, but I was certainly one to utter flattery of it were true. 'Your honesty is becoming. , Killdare. Bluntness can be tactful, you know.' I angle myself, large frame shifting, one foot from the other. Veins pulse with a new found interest, a quicker race inside. The heartbeats still rang hollow in my chest, the locked cage squeaky with every gentle thud. 'My mother once told me that beauty was everything. It could get anything you desired.' a little insight never harmed a soul. My gossamer threads fell, rolled like cascading snow mountain tops, down, down my neck as I snaked it here. My ears twitch, one reverting right back into the nestle of cream locks, the other kept solely upon the bay steed. 'Ultimately beauty can destroy you, one piece at a time. It did not do my mother any good.' I had tried to save her from my fathers iron grip; be eliminating him completely I thought she would come around. But I failed. She lay at the bottom of the mountains, bones crushed like weak stone, her scarlet life patterning the earth. I still remember her fading heartbeat, like some fading song upon the wind. 'Beauty isn't everything.' I don't talk to anyone in particular, the words come like shards of ice from my lips. A bitterness starting to creep and seep through the facade I wear so well. I suppose even the well made masks start to crack in time? I shift again, willowy frame unknotting from its stillness, like boughs of a tree. I am steady, each foot sure, as they place upon the dry loam beneath. 'Flowers wither and die. I like to think myself more like the moon, the sun. A never ending presence, but equally as gleaming.' I'm silent then, azure eyes locking on to his. That unnerving silence, awkward, cold. It shatters like glass when I laugh. Delicate, airy. My head bobs with the motion, my chest fluttering just the same. My laughter dies a slow death into the night air then, and I'm once more kept busy by the long scrutiny of him. Every nook of his face I store within, every harsh breath in his voice, the taste of his skin as the breeze twists and turns past us. You meet thousands of souls in your lifetime, you are meant to try and learn something from every one of them. I think, perhaps too brazenly, I have learnt something from the bay steed, and he, never wanting to admit if, has possibly learnt something from me. 'No, the trees, this whole place, it shudders beneath but dares to give way. There's a magical sort of feeling. You want to conserve every little bit here. It's strange.' my words are hollow, magically woven with silk and velvet. I step closer, wary still, there's a warmth that radiates from Killdare, it's enticing me near. My body is cold, not just from the wind, and the briefest thought of warmth was delightful. I stamp a hoof, stray flies darting away when the twigs beneath snap with satisfying cracks. 'I'm sure you have your way with teeth and muscles, like I have my way with words. Equally as different but ultimately the same.' my tone is wistful then, smooth. 'The Chamber, does it feel like home already to you? As though you will shed blood to protect it from harm? It's quite... Unnerving how I'm feeling unbiasedly loyal to this land, already.' a promising little nodule, words of slithering hope in slick hands. even the angels start to fall

Thank you I love yours too. Killdare is great <3

[Killdare]

She offers him praise, he takes it in stride.

"Tactful, reckless, depending on the intent."He grunts, words were always meaning something else entirely he thought. It irritated him so, when one did not simply say what they meant. He hadn't the need to go skirting around his intentions. He instead owned them, he liked what he liked and he thought what he thought. Simple as that.

The sunflower relented to share some words, silly words he thought, and perhaps she thought so too. She said them distastefully, the once polished surface beginning to subside. A momentary lapse, revealing a tarnished base coat. "Beauty is nothing, beauty fades."

He responded simply. What a fickle thing to gain power with, what would one do when they were no longer beautiful? When time and age had taken its toll on the body, and you were left with a feeble shell of something you once were? Traces of anything beautiful lost in a grayed and scarred body?

"For a while maybe, it would seem to be of some use."He said thoughtfully, looking at the tree tops a useless attempt to see the stars. "But not forever."Though the fall was upon them, the Chamber seemed to retain just the right amount of foliage to cast out all intrusion. The sun and the moon both struggled to bleed through the leaves, to touch the flora beneath the pine towers. So, she liked to think herself a celestial being. Killdare did not tempt to consider himself more than what he knew himself to be. Not anymore, anyways. She had taken it from him, the Chamber, but she was not a selfish creature.

Where he had began with intentions to be great for himself, to use deceit and half truths, it seemed to flee from him. Now he would be great for her, the Chamber, these needled woods. "She said this realm was without magic." He speculated, cranium still looking off into the sky focused on nothing in particular. "but the trees keep me here. I don't know how, but they do, whether anyone says or not. They are....aware..." He said softly, as if he had uttered a secret he should not have shared.

She swam nearer, again testing her boundries, and he lowered his dial from uplifted gaze. He regarded her the same stoic glare seeming to move right through her, before he returned his attentions back to the totems. An indifferent disposition falling over him, he no longer cared how she danced about, how she seemed plagued by constant movement. He felt a million years older than she as he sat in silence, the smallest vibrations beneath hoof to disturb the stillness. It was if she had calmed him, this mother wood. As if to tell him that we dont bicker amongst each other children, so instead he reverted to his training. He would suffer this in silence.

[Engelsfors]

Engelsfors on tarnished golden wings Slithers of silver break through the small canopies of the upper tiers, the tips of the mountainous pines still retained their forest green tint, the strong pine scent. The bottoms, nearing the trunk, the boughs were bare, spindles falling to the floor, needles getting warped into the dying branches and autumn nakedness. It is silver against gold, as the sharp pinpricks of light taint my skin. The moonlight is vaguely warm, as if such thing could be. I know it's not. But the light, it breaks through the darkness with tentative fingers and strokes me nonetheless. With a far gentler hand than that of any I have ever met. My ears twiddle, twin radar, hanging onto Killdare's words. He has chips in an outward armour, he had a rather big weight on his shoulders. He carried it as he walked, as far as he would never admit it, I saw the stubbornness that led the weary path beyond. Stubbornness was paved for a reason, bad experiences, or an even worse family life. I have no say, my lips are tightly sealed. I cannot talk of quaint little families when I left mine, bones crumbling like ash, their eye sockets dull and their blood tainting what used to be a beautiful scene. The flashes of memory plague me again. I'm unsure why, I can normally keep them well trained. To come only on my solitary ventures. It seems they are persistent in making that uncomfortable chill quake from the tip of my nose down to the ends of my tail. I say no more, I merely listen. Visibly now my golden skin flickers, shivers. There is no wind, save for the quaint autumnal breeze that picks up some stray golden leaves and whisks them onward, upward. The chill goes far deeper, down to the very marrow of my bones, the very essence in my bleak little soul. I lose the dazzle in my eye then, the coldness, it takes everything from me, and slowly, I feel, like broken clay, my face is cracking -- facades were never meant to last forever, I guessed -- every little well placed line, a smooth, debonair smile, it became a blank mask, empty, void of everything save for the bleakness in my sapphire eyes. I see flashes, darting through the forests beyond, I hear nothing, no hoof steps, no boughs snapping under ruckus. But I see them, I see my memories chasing me, my history catching up. I reel my head in, towards my chest, doing so brings the smallest slither of warmth to my ice cold pelt. It's imaginary. My mind, vast thing, plays constant tricks. It's the midnight hour, the cold, dark night. It liked to play tricks. I was slipping. why such a fool? My eye stays on him, the other lost behind the golden curtain. I watch, i simply stare, noting how he too has gone silent. the stillness of the Chamber becoming a serenity all over again. This time, I was not alone. I wondered; a poor habit, I know. But I wondered nonetheless, what the bay steed was thinking. Silence spoke volumes. The way he looked upward, towards the towering pines, it was as though he was feeling what I was feeling. the pull, magnetic and almost forceful to this place. Like I'm hypnotised to believe everything that this land spins, like i'm lost in some perfect lie. The Chamber was alive with something, strong and almost menacing. But it felt like home. It was home. Even my herdland when I was but a babe, never felt like it was truly home. But here, here it just felt... right. In the stillness of the night, beyond the pines, further into the clearing, I strained my ear, sure it was just a figment of my imagination. But there it was again, the light pounding, the soft, thud, thud, thud. Like an unseen presence, a ghoul, a ghost. I was unsure, but I felt that. It resonated against my own dull thudding in my chest. I then turned my crown towards Killdare and gestured with my muzzle, towards the heart of the Chamber. 'Do you hear that?' I am hushed, listening, straining every part of me to hear it again. The dull thudding beneath, like a pulse, alive. very much aware. Just like Killdare had mentioned. I turned back from studying the clearing, to watch Killdare's face, whether his eyes gave away anything. 'You are right, Killdare. There are eyes, I feel them. There is something... something here, and I...' I swallow a lump in my throat, how it got there, I don't know. my cracking mask was getting thinner by the moment, my eyes still half the shine of what they were. I took a few paces forward, away from the border, towards the heart, my head turning back to the bay steed. 'I feel like there is nothing I wouldn't do for this place, to please it, to make it happy.' strange notion, I'm surely hypnotised by the rhythm pounding from the earth, matching my own. I'm letting slip words that never fall from my pink lips. My mask really is slipping. My muzzle lowers then, brushing soft velvets against the cool earth, the dry dirt mottling my pink nose. I inhale it all, the rich scent, the menthol pine. It is everything and all that I want. This place, I would, I really would do what surpasses my being to please it. and that's a feeling I've never felt in my three years of existence. It perplexes me, and in the same way angers me. Feeling things I have never felt. Said things that I've only thought of, been in the presence of another far longer than really necessary. And look, he hasn't been driven away, yet. There was certainly something about The Chamber, and it was binding me here with unseen tethers. Heart strings matching, unseen and as taut as can be. even the angels start to fall

[Killdare]

The quiet remains, somehow clasping itself onto the mare and also silencing her. For a time.

He is enjoying this. This quiet. Time seeming to have stopped as they stood, two statues in the silver light. The epitome of night and day. Not having to speak, not having to do anything but simply be. For a moment.

She pulls him back, all too soon. Reeling him down from the night sky as if by strings, thinner still than fishing line. No he thinks wistfully. A question plays on her lips when he has descended. His blocky head dipping to look at her as she speaks, as it always does when anyone talks but himself. Was she hearing things? He wondered, his ears flickering lightly fluttering around his coarse black mane. But there, it is true, something faintly thuds no more than a whisper."Yes." he confirms, his head swivels to try to train on a source.

Her tone changes, and he is unsure why this brings a sense of foreboding to him. How unsettled he felt, when she spoke so, so uncertain. Words catching in her throat as she tries to lend witness to his opinions on the woods. As if something did not want her to utter any sort of confirmation to his tales.

"I know what you mean. I had a completely different mindset upon my arrival. Now I feel less, driven by myself and driven instead by something else." Something else. He knew very well what drove him forward now. The Chamber. She retreats from the borders, moving in the direction his ears told him that noise was coming from.  Eyes look back, a jibe to follow, of course he had to go now. He very well would be a poor captain if he wasn't at the forefront of the search. He plods towards her, thick pillars scraping the earth from its slumber. Shreds of dying grass and leaves leave hint of his wake. Pressing his maw to the earth he inhales, a deep breath, rattling somewhere deep into his diaphragm. When he rises, soot adorns his nares, though he is too far in now to care. The search is on, and he is inclined to inquire further on this mystery. It seemed the lady Queen had yet to share all secrets of this place, though he had not inquired or goaded her so for such gossip. He knew she had far more important things to do than to chew his ear.

As he progressed, the totems drew in ever near, he would have to test his new theory. He is ever so conscious, rolling against the bark,turning through the blackened bows with much more ease. He is pleased, and looks up, looking to see what befell the other half of this two man -er horse platoon.