06-09-2015, 02:36 PM
She notes how he falls into step on her left, though she doesn’t necessarily think much of it. Perhaps it was because he would not assume the position of her right hand until he earned it, and she gave it. Perhaps it because he liked the left better. She wasn’t quite so militant. Truthfully, she was pretty laid back, at least in certain regards. Not when it came to the Chamber though. She expected hard work, both out of herself and her subjects. She wouldn’t ask them to work any harder than she did, but she worked pretty damn hard. They were expected to live up to the level she set.
But she didn’t care if her subjects spoke their mind. Actually, she preferred it, expected it really. You can’t live in the Chamber and expect anyone to keep their mouth shut, really. They never openly revolted against Rodrik, but none of them had kept their mouths shut either when he kept disappearing. They made it well-known that they had noticed, herself include. She wonders, and perhaps suspects, if someone else would have grabbed the throne if she had not.
He listens well, pays attention, and the journey is as pleasant as any journey can be. He doesn’t pepper her with questions but nor does he reject the information she offers. Not that she minds questions – they can be useful. However, there are stupid questions. Whoever said there aren’t is stupid, and needed an excuse to ask stupid questions. At least, that’s what she thought.
He keeps up through the pine trees as best he can, though it doesn’t come easily to him as it does to those in the Chamber. It will, in time though. Even with his bulk, he will learn to dance through the trees as he dances across the battlefield. Eventually, the trees become friends and lovers, caressing, not ripping. Currently, the trees are testing their newest recruit. Ah, the Chamber is a cruel mistress indeed. Not for the faint of heart, but she doesn’t think she’s found someone faint of heart.
She nods at his description. It’s an apt one. The Chamber is not beautiful in the traditional sense of beauty, but she loves it for the looming pines, for the mists and the sparse clearing that they call home. It is peaceful. Not desolate, but not lush. His description is as close to words as she thinks there can be for this place.
Then he mentions the ash, and she smiles slightly. Not a happy smile, but nostalgic. “Volcanic eruption, from one of the nearby herdlands. Nearly destroyed the kingdom, and we have been long in regrowing. But the Chamber is resilient, and it has regrown without the aid of any magic. Unlike, I might add, every other kingdom in Beqanna.” This is not a complaint, it’s a point of pride. Certainly magic could help, but she is proud of the Chamber for surviving without it. “Supposedly, the disasters were natural. I would suspect that some of the magicians in Beqanna had something to do with it though. They get bored, after all.”
But she didn’t care if her subjects spoke their mind. Actually, she preferred it, expected it really. You can’t live in the Chamber and expect anyone to keep their mouth shut, really. They never openly revolted against Rodrik, but none of them had kept their mouths shut either when he kept disappearing. They made it well-known that they had noticed, herself include. She wonders, and perhaps suspects, if someone else would have grabbed the throne if she had not.
He listens well, pays attention, and the journey is as pleasant as any journey can be. He doesn’t pepper her with questions but nor does he reject the information she offers. Not that she minds questions – they can be useful. However, there are stupid questions. Whoever said there aren’t is stupid, and needed an excuse to ask stupid questions. At least, that’s what she thought.
He keeps up through the pine trees as best he can, though it doesn’t come easily to him as it does to those in the Chamber. It will, in time though. Even with his bulk, he will learn to dance through the trees as he dances across the battlefield. Eventually, the trees become friends and lovers, caressing, not ripping. Currently, the trees are testing their newest recruit. Ah, the Chamber is a cruel mistress indeed. Not for the faint of heart, but she doesn’t think she’s found someone faint of heart.
She nods at his description. It’s an apt one. The Chamber is not beautiful in the traditional sense of beauty, but she loves it for the looming pines, for the mists and the sparse clearing that they call home. It is peaceful. Not desolate, but not lush. His description is as close to words as she thinks there can be for this place.
Then he mentions the ash, and she smiles slightly. Not a happy smile, but nostalgic. “Volcanic eruption, from one of the nearby herdlands. Nearly destroyed the kingdom, and we have been long in regrowing. But the Chamber is resilient, and it has regrown without the aid of any magic. Unlike, I might add, every other kingdom in Beqanna.” This is not a complaint, it’s a point of pride. Certainly magic could help, but she is proud of the Chamber for surviving without it. “Supposedly, the disasters were natural. I would suspect that some of the magicians in Beqanna had something to do with it though. They get bored, after all.”
straia
queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission