i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

Alive or dead, they all become ghosts at some point. They all become stories, some of them legends, all of them a piece of historical fabric. Some of them fade off quietly, some of them go out in a blaze of glory. But they all fade eventually.

The good ones find their way back.

Warship himself has never been able to shrug off the collar of the Chamber and fade into that quiet nothingness. Its been there, noose-like and greedy, robbing him of life and blood since the moment his eyes opened. He can barely remember what his mother looked like, but he can recall every version of the Chamber he has ever seen. Flaming trees and magical Ravens, a brief joining with the Valley; he remembers them all in detail. He can also remember faces that were constant, though their features have grown hazy over time; Atrox, his sire, the scarred Panther King who had given his heart for his kingdom. Straia, the tobiano mare he watched grow into something beautiful and fierce. So many faces, so many lifetimes.

The Chamber is quiet today, as she has been for several years. A lull has settled over the lands, filling in the gaps that the abscene of horseflesh leaves behind. There was a time that the old warrior would have sought out such solitude, but now he finds himself growing bored of it. While he is a man of few words, he is at his very core an equine, a creature not made for solitary living. A mournful howl leaves his mouth as his golden eyes scan his surroundings. He finds nothing or no one, but that doesn't mean they aren't there.

Anyone is better than no one at this point.

warship

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

They may be fewer than they were before, but the tried and true Chamberlings are still out there. Like him, they've become relics. Ancient artifacts to be admired but never replicated. But still, they exist. Hidden in the recesses of the kingdom herself, or living in some far-flung land without a name. The ones who leave always return at some point, though.

A fly breaks his reverie first. It is a persistent thing, and despite his slashing tail and shivering skin, it still seems hell bent on having a bite of him. From withers to rump it flies, lighting only just long enough for him to feel it and shoo it away. He has almost made up his mind to go back to the shadows when another sound catches his attention. Hoofbeats.

He turns to watch the other stallion approach, his brows furrowed as he looks him over. There is definitely something familiar about him, and while Warship is certain their paths have crossed he can't yet place the name to the face. The buckskin doesn't speak, a fact which suits Warship. Words are not his strong suit; actions speak louder than words. So he does not have an issue with the wordless approach, though he is somewhat curious about it. At their core they are all equines, but they've mostly ignored or forgotten those fundamental things that make them, them.

Warm, sweet breath spills from the buckskins flaring nostrils. Warship breaths deep, his ears pricked at the simple exchange. He can see the other is nervous, fighting the instincts that tell him Warship is more predator than horse. Still, he doesn't flee, so Warship offers him a breath back. When the exchange is through the buckskin begins to graze, seemingly content to just exist as horses have existed for millenia. Together but wordless.

He tears up great mouthfuls of grass, and the muscles along his jaw flew with each chew. Though he has never felt the urge to eat meat, his canine teeth make grazing and chewing somewhat more difficult. But he forges on, content with the sunshine and the company. But after several more mouthfuls, even Warship decides he'd rather hear something other than chewing.

"You look familiar. Warship." It isn't much, but it isn't chewing and chirping birds.

warship

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

There is an emptiness in his belly that has nothing to do with food. It festers and grows as time marches on, causing a bone deep ache that can't be soothed. It isn't physical hunger that pains him; Its a longing for a place he can never return to.

That place he aches for is only memories now. That place is the home of ghosts, and he is a creature made of flesh and blood. There's no room in the spirit realm for old warriors such as himself.

He watches in amazement as the coat of the buckskin shifts, the golden hair shifting to the dark green of pine and the orange of flames. His eyes glaze as the picture changes again, this time showing that fierce little pinto mare he came to admire so much. Memories from days gone by come roaring back to the forefront, and for a moment he thinks he hears a raven screech. But the ghosts are chased away by the present, and when the stallion offers his name, Warship returns it with a small smile and an incline of his head. Though their paths didn't cross frequently, his is a name Warship has heard. "Kavi. If there's one thing I've learned about the Chamber, its that she refuses to let old dogs lie." he says with a huff.

The next words, however, turn his huff into something of a choke, and if Warship were capable of blushing, his cheeks would be flaming. Everyone knew that Warship and Straia had provided the kingdom with three heirs, but no one spoke of it, least of all Warship himself. So when Kavi does, it takes Warship aback. "Ahem..." he says, clearing his throat before continuing, "I provided Straia heirs, yes. Erebor, Korbin, and Bismark. Three boys." he finishes, his eyes searching the treetops and anywhere else that Kavis eyes are not. He is thankful when the conversation changes, and nearly breathes aloud his sigh of relief. He's never been one to kiss and tell, and certainly not to the girls uncle.

As the conversation shifts he relaxes too, cocking a hind leg and allowing to sun to warm his ancient bones. Kavis coat swirls as another picture is painted, one filled with faces Warship does and doesn't know. "I've left the Chamber many times, sometimes by choice and sometimes guided by the grim reaper himself. But for whatever reason, I always come back." he muses, as if lost to the same thoughts Kavi was lost in. "Maybe its part of the magic here. Hell, I don't know. Maybe it drags us old farts out to remind the youngsters of what we were. Thats what Straia used to call me, was an old fart." he chuckles, a genuine noise that rumbles from his chest. The ache is still in his belly, but being in the company of another like him helps soothe it some.

warship

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

Warship isn't regretful for the things he has done. He has spilt blood and broken bones, led war bands against enemy kingdoms and bled them dry. He has not an ounce of shame for doing those things. His kingdom asked, and so he did it. But the things he hasn't done...those things eat him alive.

Truth be told he wasn't a great father. More than once he has found solace between a pair of nameless hips, whispering sweet nothings before slipping back into the dark and leaving them to raise the child. Never forceful, but he could be charming when the mood suited him. Several of his children have known him, but to know him and love him are two different things. He raised his children how he himself was raised, never knowing better to do better. For the most part, his children were created because of his own selfishness or to fill a need in his kingdom. Other than Vaughan and Smother, the only two created out of love.

Golden hide meets black, and he takes the blow with an easy grunt. He is sure they make quite a picture, these dinosaurs of a forgotten era. One gold, one black, both carrying the weight of a lifetime on their shoulders. He listens to Kavi speak of his children, and for a moment he feels envy bloom in his chest. A sigh leaves his mouth as his gaze wanders again. "I was never what you would call close to any of my children. I knew them, but I didn't raise them." he grumbles, idly scraping a hoof across the ground. "I'd like to try to change that with the twins though, Wisky and Nadja. They are wandering around here somewhere." He means that. He isn't one to dwell in the past, but he refuses to not learn from it, either.

As the conversation wanders on he cocks a hip, settling into the easiness of it. Its been too long since he's felt like this; maybe never if he's honest with himself. Kavis laugh breaks the quiet, and even the birds take to the sky in indignation. The same warm noise begins to bubble from Warships throat, and before he can stop it, he is lost to it. Their collective amusement fills the empty space around them. "If we had an Old Farts Council and Straia The Princess Brat, we could shake up this whole realm, not just this kingdom. Carnage himself would be hard pressed to match our collective wisdom." he says through the laughter. "I cast my vote for you as President, and I'll be Vice President. Forgive me, but your grays make you look wiser than me. he finishes with a smirk.

warship

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell

Immortality was as much a curse as it was a blessing. His memories never had a chance to become ghosts. They never had a chance to fade into that place that long-lost memories go before they are forgotten entirely. While they were never at the forefront of his mind (that spot had always been occupied by his kingdom), they lurked in that shadowy place, whispering and watching. Red eyes, blue hide, panther kings, raven queens, serpent women...all of them there, all of them fresh.

Immortality was damnation, but his kingdom needed him and so damnation was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Give and give and give, until the well ran dry. That was his mantra.

He offers Kavi a smile at the mention of the twins, nodding his head in agreement. "They come from good stock. I don't know that they'll make a name for themselves like you could in our day, but I hope they try anyways." he says, and he means it. No, The Chamber wasn't what it was when Warship and Kavi headed the ranks, but it was still here, and their bloodline was Chamber through and through.

As the moon fights its way into the sky their conversation churns on, playful and carefree and unlike anything Warship has ever participated in. He has only ever worn the face of General, never the face of friend. The laughter feels both foreign and familiar, and he can't say that its entirely unpleasant. He dodges the buckskins kicks easily enough, years of battle training taking over and leading him away. He does allow one soft blow to land though, and he counters it with a chuckle and a toss of his tangled mane. "Please. I've had leaves fall off of the trees that hit me harder than that." he says with a teasing smirk.

But when the stallion shifts his coat, the smirk quickly morphs into full blown laughter, the kind that started in his belly before rumbling into his chest. Even the birds, so peaceful and quiet before, squawk in indignation at the foreign sound. "Old Fart I may be, but I didn't make it this long by being Stupid Old Fart. I wouldn't dream of taking on a God himself." he says through the laughter.

Warship has never really had a friend, but he is quite sure friends don't beat up friends.

warship