"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
Tarnished knows better than to walk into a hornets’ nest.
Or rather, in this case, the nest of a magical Raven Queen and her devoted flock. So he waits, he bides his time, he stalks the borders and feels them out and remembers—though the memories aren’t his, though he wishes they would go away—all of the kingdom’s dirtiest little secrets. The brother and sister that loved one another too much. The Slave Pens. The Valley War. The Chamber, and how She, too, had made it burn long before the volcano after She lost Her beloved father.
Silly dragons and their temper tantrums.
Tarnished runs his tongue along his fangs, the ravens gliding above him perfectly reflected in his golden eyes; he wonders how they taste, if his cousin would notice if just one of them came up missing—just one little bird. But then he thinks better of it. She would probably take offense, knowing his family, and there’s plenty of food back in the Meadow. Meaty little rabbits and stringy little fawns.
He isn’t picky.
From wolf to lion, from lion to horse, the shape-shifter flits between forms to ease his own boredom. It’d been years since Frostweaver was murdered, years since she’d lain eyes on the infant Straia and cried over her sister with her other niece, Araby. Straia probably didn’t even remember. Tarnished certainly wouldn’t, if his mother had not ingrained their faces into the forefront of his mind; he knew Tatter and Frostreaver, he knew Araby, he knew Straia and he even had a vague idea of what his grandfather, Set, might look like. Not that it does him any good if none of them bother to show up. Yawning, the horse becomes an ape and climbs the pine tree nearest to him to nap at the Chamber’s border. Might as well, if the voices in the distance were any indication. He cannot make out clearly what it is they’re saying, but he would bet his life that they’ve all gathered together for a kingdom meeting.
tarnished
vanquish x nocturnal
Even on the way down, even on the way down.
[Hi, my name is Venge and I can't write starter posts. ^__^]
Vanquish x Nocturnal equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity
There were no dragons in the Chamber anymore. Beqanna had kicked them out, for a time. Sure, certain Chamber members could turn into dragons, though neither of them were prone to doing so. It seems, at least for now, the age of dragons had come to an end in Beqanna, in the Chamber. The Ravens ruled here now, and they were far less obvious that the dragons that came before. No one suspects the little black birds of anything. At least, not on first glance. But where dragons are force and fire, the ravens are clever and deceptive. Straia did not rule by burning (though she could set the world on fire with her ravens), or by freezing (she could do that, too). Straia ruled the way the ravens lived.
Her ravens don’t taste all that good. Most of them aren’t real, aren’t made of meat. They are figments of her imagination, brought together by weaving shadow and light. They look like real ravens, but they taste like nothing. Like eating the air, and possibly a few bugs with it. Unless of course, one is lucky enough to grab one of the real ones. But there had not been enough ravens in Beqanna to suit her needs. She needed eyes, needed spies, and the tiny little birds could go nearly everywhere without being noticed. And even if they were noticed, only some knew that they were an extension of the Chamber Queen.
That said, she’d be furious at anyone who even ate a shadow. They are the Chamber, and the Chamber is everything.
She knows he’s on the border, prowling. The ravens come and go, even as she holds court, listening to the various ideas of her kingdom. She’s collected quite the group, some more vicious than she might have expected. Not that she’s complaining, mind you, though for the most part she sides with her son’s view. She has no desire to bring all of Beqanna to the Chamber’s doorstep. They were a strong kingdom, but they could not combat the rest of Beqanna as a whole. She has no desire to make the same mistake that the Valley had, in other words. That kingdom was still trying to crawl out of the dust.
The visitor turns into an ape and climbs the nearest pine to nap. She sends that particular messenger raven back to the ape, where the bird perches neatly on top of the ape. “The Queen will be along shortly,” it says in strange, choppy words. The words are hers, but the voice is not. And the bird isn’t quite designed for speaking. It takes off then before the apes decides to eat it, and leaves the sleeping monkey be.
It is not that long (though long enough for a nice cat nap), before Straia leaves the meeting behind. She moves as a horse, in no particular rush, through the pine forest. She isn’t sure if he’ll still be ape or horse or monster by the time she gets there, but either way, she says, “Straia, what can I do for you?” Because she doesn’t know Tarnished. She barely remembers Araby and Nocturnal, though she remembers the moment they told her her mother had been murdered. She knows what her mother looks like only because of her own reflection. But she remembers so little, and has been told even left. Oh, if only she knew he held all the keys to her past. The side her father tried so hard to bury. The side she’s tried so hard to dig up.
08-14-2015, 02:41 PM (This post was last modified: 08-14-2015, 02:42 PM by Tarnished.)
We were young and wild and free,
fightin' in a love we couldn't leave.
Something lands in front of me, which isn’t surprising—there’s an absurd amount of ravens occupying the kingdom and I have gotten used to them quickly. What is surprising, however, is that this particular bird speaks; intrigued, I crack an eye open and carefully study the feathered creature before nodding to let it know I have heard its’ announcement. Satisfied, the raven takes off and I take to moving back down to the ground; gorillas weren’t exactly meant to meet Queens and I, being the ‘gentleman’ that I am, return to the body my Mother made me. Straia is in no hurry and I don’t fault her for that.
This is her home, her domain. I’m an unimportant visitor, probably bothersome—Queens tend to have more important things to do than come to greet strangers at the doorstep. That’s what her subjects are for. Nevertheless, she makes her way through the pine forest and towards me and I cannot help grinning. She doesn’t recognize me—or, rather, recognize who I look like. I’m the spitting image of her late Aunt, scars and all, and as much as I hate my Mother I had half-hoped there would be at least a spark of recognition.
There isn’t.
“Hmm, nothing really. I just thought I’d come pay you a visit,” I shrug, watching the birds that are flying around above us—but I’m also watching her, I know better than to take my eyes off of someone that could be dangerous. And Straia, well, you didn’t become Queen of the Chamber and have control of a bunch of ravens without being at least a little dangerous. “I don’t suppose family comes to visit you often?” I wonder, because Mother’s never came to visit us.
Tatter coupling with Fey hadn’t been a very popular choice back then.
Grudges ran deep.
So I can’t imagine Mother’s family looking favorably upon me, my siblings or my cousins; we would forever be dirt, mud in the blood. Unclean. A blemish on the bloodline. Although, looking at Straia, I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her that. I smile. “Anyways, I am your cousin on your mother’s side. Tarnished is my name, or Nish, if you prefer. I’ve really only come to see the Chamber, I require nothing of you—though I mean that in the least insulting way possible. My mother—err, your Aunt, was very fond of the Chamber. She… thought very highly of it.” Not that I could give a fuck less what Mother thought of anything, I’m only curious. I want to see it through my own eyes rather than dream about it every night.
It looks nothing like I—She, She remembers. It’s been burnt to a crisp at least once or twice, but it is growing back; I know the burns are too fresh to be from when She burnt it down, and inside I chuckle, because I wonder how many times it’s caught fire since then. My family’s always had a thing for burning and I find it rather amusing that the place where it all began seems prone to doing the same.
tarnished
vanquish x nocturnal
Even on the way down, even on the way down.
Vanquish x Nocturnal equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity
08-17-2015, 08:57 AM (This post was last modified: 08-17-2015, 08:58 AM by Straia.)
Straia had only met Noctural once. The mare, if Straia remembers correctly, had been half dragon at the time. Or least, had been acting like one, and Straia remembers dragon. Either way, that is the imagine in her head. She had been a child then. What, a year old? Maybe not even that. She doesn’t remember much, truthfully. Most of it she thinks she’s dreamed up in the years that have passed, some story concocted in her head to fill in all the blanks her father purposefully left.
The one thing she vividly remembers is the news. Your mother was murdered. Maybe there had been more words or less words, but the point was still the point. She remembers the feeling of her heart being ripped from her chest. She remembers Nocturnal the dragon, more rage than sorrow. But in that moment, Straia knew nothing but sorrow. It is the only moment in her life death has touched her that way, and likely will be the only moment it ever does. Unless Erebor dies before her, but then, she’ll simply tear the world apart in revenge.
He is causal when he greets her, like she should know him. And then he mentions family. She cocks her head slightly, wondering why the ravens didn’t bother to fill her in on any bit of information regarding this stallion. Every once in a while the ravens had a strange sense of humor. Or maybe they knew she would appreciate this discovery on her own, that it would keep her from racing to the stranger on the border and neglecting her own kingdom. Because the ravens knew her well, and they knew what information she sought.
Despite her bubbling excitement, she can’t help but laugh. “No, they definitely do not.” Oksana lurked around now, which Straia was glad for. Rodrik as well, though he certainly didn’t seek out his daughter. Lu wanted nothing to do with her. Straia wasn’t exactly that popular with her own family. Even Kavi, who tried to preach peace to them now that they were not “officially evil.” They never needed to be officially anything to simply do as they pleased here. And Straia sought power for her kingdom, and the knowledge of that power throughout Beqanna. Maybe that made her evil, but she didn’t care. She’d collected quite the crew of horses here that seemed to agree with her goal. Though they all had different ways to go about it.
He continues, and she nods slightly, tossing her head a bit to indicate that he should come in. They have no secrets to hide from spies anyway. The kingdom is bustling and alive. She doubts he’s a spy, but even if he is, the only news he’ll leave with is that the Chamber is a formidable foe. She studies him for a moment; trying to think of anything she may know about her mother’s side of the family. But her histories lessons were horribly sparse, and there’s very little. Though she does remember the dragon mare that told her of her mother’s death, and she has to ask. “Nocturnal’s son?” but she could be entirely wrong. She knows Nocturnal and Araby are both her aunt’s, but she could have others she’s never even heard of.
“My father did a bang up job of making sure I never learned about that side of my family.” He murdered her mother and ran the rest of the family out of the kingdom. At least, that’s what she suspected. But time has a knack for erasing even the best of efforts. Because here was her mother’s side of the family, waltzing through the pine trees with her.
