What fickle flame (Straia, any)

[Kushiel]

Kushiel, for all his other faults, liked to give credit where credit was due. Straia and Gryffen’s plan seemed to be working remarkably well. Suddenly, people were paying attention. Mission accomplished. If only Kushiel hadn’t been dumped unceremoniously in the Deserts. That, certainly, wasn’t part of the plan. He still had sand in places that were not fit to be mentioned in polite company.

Good thing he wasn’t polite.

But still, a little sand between the cheeks was a small price to pay for the fun they had. It was bonding really, to strike a mighty blow beside one’s Chambermates. Kushiel had never pictured himself as a brother in arms, but suddenly, the idea of a little sweat and ash didn’t seem so bad. He’d gotten some good laughs out of it as well. Like that hugely fat colt that had nearly run Shaytan to the ground.

Truly hilarious.

All in all, it was not a bad day’s work, and Kushiel still found himself thinking back on it fondly. However, a memory was just that, in the past. As nice as a life of indulgent leisure was, it didn’t do much to get a man’s blood up. Luckily, Kushiel had made his home in the most happening spot in town. And it looked like the newest visitor had just arrived.

Kushiel recognized Tiberios from description. There weren’t that many white fire wielders around who had nearly burned off half of their body. Kushiel meandered his way over to the king, and spoke to him in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“Hey, I can do that too.” With a dramatic flourish Kushiel’s own flames leapt up around his head in a crown to match Tiberios’, expect Kushiel's was orange and red, rather than blue and white. He grinned roguishly at the other stallion.

“Though, if you’re trying to impress Straia don’t bother. I’ve already tried it.” That much was true. Kushiel had tried the same crown trick on her, and it hadn’t had the desired affect, namely, to woo her. He doubted Tiberios would have any more luck, even if his fire was a pretty color.