07-08-2015, 11:27 PM
We are at war. There will be scars.
He blinks, and he is back. He thinks for just a moment that it was all a strange dream, that it was all – nothing.And then he catches sight of his own leg out of the corner of his eye. A deep wine red. He feels his heart race in panic for a moment, and quickly looks over his entire body (or, as much as he can) – deep wine-red, blue and green in his mane and tail. But all of it is fur, all of it is natural, and he knows his surroundings to be the Chamber.
In fact, he's in the exact spot where he was when plucked and sent into that strange otherworld. He's in the same place, and yet it feels impossibly different. The world seems to call out to him now, something that he can't quite define seems to ebb and flow, to eddy around everything like water but it isn't water.
And above all, he feels – both hot and cold. It's almost impossible to describe.
But even as he registers a myriad of sensations that he can't process, Beqanna adds one to the list. Something ripples out from the heart of the kingdom, making his heart skip a beat and twisting his insides in a funny way. He can't place what it is, but he knows that it is strange and new, and he must find his queen and make sure that she is safe.
He knows in his bones where he'll find her, and his strong legs carry him to the heart of the Chamber easily enough. He sees her then, and Killdare too, but he's too busy marveling at her to think of acknowledging the other man.
He stares at the sky in mute wonder as the ravens swirl, knowing somehow that they come from his mother. He knows in that moment that she is okay, that she is unharmed, but that she is forever changed. He understands then, even though Straia has said nothing, he knows that the restrictions that used to ban magic here have fallen away. He knows that what she has is a gift – and that it's new, because she had once told him she had no magic, and he knows she would not lie to him.
And he laughs with delight, a rich sound like melting chocolate. He laughs because it's all so glorious, because the Chamber is at last unbound, because he can feel the joy of the flight of ravens, the power that now radiates from his mother. And perhaps he laughs because in the back of his mind he remembers a time when he was plastic, because he is still wine-red with dark green and dark blue in his mane and tail, and because he is both hot and cold all at once, and because the entirety of the Chamber seems to shimmer around him.
And as he laughs, the air around him becomes a shower of sparks. Like miniature fireworks, little pockets of gases in the air superheat and explode. Harmless, like fireworks in miniature, or exploding fireflies.
And suddenly, concerned, he stops laughing. His jubilation calms, and with it, the air calms. He looks to Killdare, and to his mother, the raven queen in all her glory. "Everything is different now, isn't it." he speaks calmly, and it is a statement rather than a question.
As though to prove his point, he focuses hard, closing his eyes and using all the discipline and training he's gathered, all of the wisdom-beyond-his-years that he's ever had. And when he opens his eyes again, a small ball of radiant fire is swirling in front of him. He sustains it carefully, letting it draw in fresh oxygen and fresh material to feed off of as it swirls. It doesn't last long before he gets it a little wrong, before it sputters out and dies, but he's answered the question that the sparks had raised. It would take time and practice, his gift did not come as naturally to him as his mother's did to her, but it was only fitting: Straia's power had erupted from within, whereas his had been granted by an erstwhile fairy, earned in pain and torture (and a whole lot of melting).
Melting, he thinks with a wry grin. How very ironic.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia