Prick of the Thorn[Nymph, gathered]

[Nymphetamine]

Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones

Time had passed in a blur of sunrises and sunsets. A series of flashes that highlighted his approximate decade within the boundaries of Beqanna. She had shaped him, molded him to her will and need. Like a wise skilled mistress, she had taken him from foolhardy youth to skilled diplomat and tried warrior. She had blessed him with love, a home, and family. His family was unconventional, his kids were scattered but they were his, and therefore family. But it went beyond blood, he had a family in those he protected while serving Chamber and Kildare, and the friends he knew would have his back no matter what. He had always been loyal, but his sense of loyalty had matured over the years and he understood now that loyalty was more than just having someone’s back. It was why he knew, in the end, he had to return to Tephra, it was why he kept tabs on all his children, it was why he hadn’t given up on Kimber. 

The late summer air was almost autumn like the slight chill that rode the end of the breeze, just enough to leave you with the lightest chill. The shadowed terrain of the forest held a greater chill than that of the field he recently vacated as to head back to Tephra. He had been looking forward to the quiet trek, so that he could reflect on the time he spent on the field and why he had become disenfranchised with Tephra to start with. But his work was never over, not really not with children scattered about. The voice he heard was distant, but the hiss held the intonation and flare of Kilgore. Karaugh The blood bay stallion hadn’t seen her in a number of years, she had left Beqanna’s lands for the in between some time ago. Prior to that, he had given her space to find her way, but he watched from a distance in case she ever needed him. Kilgore was...dark, and Karaugh often showed more of her mother than him. Nymphetamine was well aware of the things that occurred within Silver Cove, and while he would have removed his daughter from the twisted nature of Kirin and his followers-- it was not his choice, for Karaugh was old enough to choose when her mother died.

His hooves stopped atop the sparse grass and his head turned to glance in the direction of the hissed greeting. Deep brown, and kissed with a touch of white across her brow, she was not the leggy thing he say last, but she had filled in, grown up. She looked well, and he was glad for it. ”I wondered when you would return, I never thought you would stay away forever. You look well, Karaugh.”He didn’t turn around but instead flicked his head in an invitation to walk with him. Nymphetamine had stopped aging at the lovely age of 7, or was it 8? He looked merely a few years older than his third eldest child, second if you count the twins as one. He enjoyed his youth and therefore didn’t wish to stand about wasting it when his daughter could walk just as easily as he. He walked for awhile in silence, leading the way through the trees, in a lightly woven path. If Karaugh decided to slip off into the darkness, that was fine, but he figured she had found him for a reason, and that she would follow.

Kilgore was calculated, and in some ways so was Karaugh, he had a reason for everything she had ever done, whether it was a good one or not was up for question but there was a reason nonetheless. After the quiet had sat for long enough he flipped his eyes to the side towards his brazen daughter, ”So...what brought you back… to me?” She obviously no longer needed a protector, but somewhere deep down a girl always needs her father. Karaugh may be wild and restless, but somethings are universal… even if not noticeable on the surface.

NYMPHETAMINE

Magnus' Personal Thorn, Once Governor of Chamber