08-12-2016, 09:31 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
Something more causes a bad taste in his mouth than the stench, brings such unwanted displeasure to his palette. His curiosity for the creature wanes as it continues to banter, his herd, his family, gathering around them. It reminded him far too much of something else he did not like, someone else. Though this irritance was not wrapped in a pretty purple package, was not adorned with soft lavender feathers. There is much to be said about the Kingdom, his Kingdom mates because he considered them his ‘subjects’ very little. They were not his, they were Hers, the Chambers, just as they had always been.
Most of them he knows, the uncertain mare to first breach the clearing, his Indigo Queen, the pyro and a dark wildcat. It’s just the one that is new, well, two. The tobiano mare that slips in with a snake coiled precariously over her body. Aside from the dead one she is the only thing that is unfamiliar but he watches her speak, he listens.
It is quite the calvary that comes and he knows it is not for him, it is not for his blue Queen- it is for the Chamber. They are her servants, just as this undead beast claims to be, some long forgotten totem. Killdare knows he is often rubbed the wrong way, less so lately than in the past but he knows himself well enough to admit it. This is so much more than that, it is as if it has come simply to stroke their fur backwards and tell them to like it. He snorts, the heat from his lungs bringing a burst of clouded moisture to the world from the dampness of the cool forest air. They all talk, long, far longer than he would have expected but he listens quietly for a time.
The words of his love bring a smile to his lips, curl the corners of his sooty mouth and part of him wishes to see her do just what she offers. He didn’t need his Queen to practice careful diplomacy, she was a no nonsense being and was quick to offer punishment to those that had earned it. Once he was brash like this, coarse in the mind but Killdare had bloomed into something far different than he had ever expected. Gone against the path his own Father had tried to set for him, a level headed warrior of sorts because the Chamber King had not gone soft. Ask the Deserts, the Jungle, he knew all too well they would attest to his Warmongering but truly he was far less simple than that.
Loyal, to his word and to the Chamber. It was not simply for the taste of blood that he had gone to the colts side, if he said he was going to do something, he did it. Even if that was a fool’s chore of overthrowing a Kingdom for a boy that did not deserve it. The Chamber King was tied true to his word and sometimes his words got the best of him.
“She wakes things she wants, you’re right, toys she wishes to play with,” he comments off hand as they all finish their parlay. “You think you are different, that you are not merely her pawn if you are anything?” So very like Kirin this creature was, thinking himself above them, greater for the simple fact that She was being greedy with overuse of him. He himself only hoped that She would not run him into the ground time and time again but if She asked, he would answer.
The painted female turns to them then, Smother she says, wants to pledge herself to the Chamber she says. “I see,” he muses, looking her over and the critter that hangs coiled against her throat. “It’s your funeral,” he suggests, “or maybe it isn’t, ask our friend, it seems he has yet to be offered a proper one.” A pointed jab at the rotting nuisance that fouled the air. Then he nods, dipping his earthy head and without saying it she is permitted to live among them if she so wishes, to caste herself as a pawn to the whims of the Chamber. Sleek as night the panther doth come and his amusement is not wasted on this either. If anyone was to claim to know the Chamber it would be the cat slithering into their group, the one shifting into a hardened warrior, quite overused himself and yet She had not called on him for the War, nor the raid.
One would be left to assume that he was a tool not meant to be blunted by trivial matters. So Killdare could only wonder what was truly at work here with the undead thing if Atrox was to be brought down from the mountains. “And I am Killdare, please do tell us what exactly you’ve been called forward to do?” He glares, watching carefully the unkempt man before them with his glassy eyes. “Perhaps you mistake Her own wishes with your own.” Greed, so much greed thrown around as of late and Beqanna had made herself very clear. “If you seek blood lust I’m sure you can find it elsewhere on your own. I’ll no longer entertain nonsense bickering for naught, Beqanna has made herself quite clear on that matter. And, far as I am aware there is no news of some useless blood feud brewing in light of recent events.” No, they were all better seeing to their own and minding it too.
Most of them he knows, the uncertain mare to first breach the clearing, his Indigo Queen, the pyro and a dark wildcat. It’s just the one that is new, well, two. The tobiano mare that slips in with a snake coiled precariously over her body. Aside from the dead one she is the only thing that is unfamiliar but he watches her speak, he listens.
It is quite the calvary that comes and he knows it is not for him, it is not for his blue Queen- it is for the Chamber. They are her servants, just as this undead beast claims to be, some long forgotten totem. Killdare knows he is often rubbed the wrong way, less so lately than in the past but he knows himself well enough to admit it. This is so much more than that, it is as if it has come simply to stroke their fur backwards and tell them to like it. He snorts, the heat from his lungs bringing a burst of clouded moisture to the world from the dampness of the cool forest air. They all talk, long, far longer than he would have expected but he listens quietly for a time.
The words of his love bring a smile to his lips, curl the corners of his sooty mouth and part of him wishes to see her do just what she offers. He didn’t need his Queen to practice careful diplomacy, she was a no nonsense being and was quick to offer punishment to those that had earned it. Once he was brash like this, coarse in the mind but Killdare had bloomed into something far different than he had ever expected. Gone against the path his own Father had tried to set for him, a level headed warrior of sorts because the Chamber King had not gone soft. Ask the Deserts, the Jungle, he knew all too well they would attest to his Warmongering but truly he was far less simple than that.
Loyal, to his word and to the Chamber. It was not simply for the taste of blood that he had gone to the colts side, if he said he was going to do something, he did it. Even if that was a fool’s chore of overthrowing a Kingdom for a boy that did not deserve it. The Chamber King was tied true to his word and sometimes his words got the best of him.
“She wakes things she wants, you’re right, toys she wishes to play with,” he comments off hand as they all finish their parlay. “You think you are different, that you are not merely her pawn if you are anything?” So very like Kirin this creature was, thinking himself above them, greater for the simple fact that She was being greedy with overuse of him. He himself only hoped that She would not run him into the ground time and time again but if She asked, he would answer.
The painted female turns to them then, Smother she says, wants to pledge herself to the Chamber she says. “I see,” he muses, looking her over and the critter that hangs coiled against her throat. “It’s your funeral,” he suggests, “or maybe it isn’t, ask our friend, it seems he has yet to be offered a proper one.” A pointed jab at the rotting nuisance that fouled the air. Then he nods, dipping his earthy head and without saying it she is permitted to live among them if she so wishes, to caste herself as a pawn to the whims of the Chamber. Sleek as night the panther doth come and his amusement is not wasted on this either. If anyone was to claim to know the Chamber it would be the cat slithering into their group, the one shifting into a hardened warrior, quite overused himself and yet She had not called on him for the War, nor the raid.
One would be left to assume that he was a tool not meant to be blunted by trivial matters. So Killdare could only wonder what was truly at work here with the undead thing if Atrox was to be brought down from the mountains. “And I am Killdare, please do tell us what exactly you’ve been called forward to do?” He glares, watching carefully the unkempt man before them with his glassy eyes. “Perhaps you mistake Her own wishes with your own.” Greed, so much greed thrown around as of late and Beqanna had made herself very clear. “If you seek blood lust I’m sure you can find it elsewhere on your own. I’ll no longer entertain nonsense bickering for naught, Beqanna has made herself quite clear on that matter. And, far as I am aware there is no news of some useless blood feud brewing in light of recent events.” No, they were all better seeing to their own and minding it too.
KILLDARE
King of the Chamber
