between the shadows and the soul - erebor, diplomats

[Crito]

The boy speaks first and it surprises Crito. He’d been looking towards the woman (the boy’s mother? Even he can’t tell) expecting her to delve into the basics of politics for the colt’s sake. He expects a slip-up or a short interjection, but neither happens. The colt – Erebor – proves an effective diplomat for one so young, and he finds himself pleasantly surprised. For so long he’s been dismissive of the young, so against bringing a child of his own into the world. What good are they until they’re fully grown? How does one even begin to get to that point, to raise them up from the infancy of their own minds? Circumstances as of late have swayed his opinion of foals from the unlikely to the possible. However, he forces those thoughts to the back of his mind for now. Diplomacy will always come first. Straia picks up where Erebor left off. She’s now the Chamber’s queen, she says, and Crito can hear the pride in her voice when she does. It’s subtle but it’s there, lying in wait like a polar bear waits for a seal on the ice. Crito wonders how Rodrik had been deposed of. He wonders if it was a show like their own recent transition or if it was the quiet leaving of a tired king. Straia doesn’t elaborate – of course – and that more than anything is telling of how it went down. Most monarchs do not retire, after all. The Tundra’s winged general steps up to answer the black yearling. It’s obvious from his face and what he says that he’s relatively happy to have Errant back. Crito is glad for this, because his loyalty to his brother – to his family – knows no bounds. He places them on a pedestal (even in the lean times, especially the lean times, when it would be far easier to cut ties and run). His smile is genuine and quick when they talk of the black king, their new-old monarch. This time will be different. This time he won’t disappear into the secret caves that have already sheltered him too long. In the past, he’d become reliant on them, on his silence. But he’s since found his voice. “I’d like to think better than before,” he returns Brennen’s glance with a more optimistic one of his own. The statement isn’t meant to rile the bay man, simply to play up their situation as any peacekeeper knew to do. Opportunities have presented themselves, Crito knows this much, but he can’t show them all of the Tundra’s cards. It is a time of rebuilding (when isn’t it, though?) and few doors are really closed to them at this point. He turns the question back on the Chamberlings, his grey eyes curious. “And what of the Chamber? Are you fully recovered from your fire – assuming that’s what I smelled?” ( c r i t o )

reference picture //character info