They flock to the boy, as they always do. It’s an inevitable state of the field anymore, which she hears once burst with life. Now, life merely trickles in. Sometimes she wonders if it’s actually always been like this, and the stories have just gotten twisted, as stories do, throughout the years. She suspects that this must be at least something of the truth, though perhaps the whole truth is the mix of both. In part, because the field really was more active and in part, because stories change over the years.
The next one to approach has a stony face for one so young. It’s a different type of stony than her son. This one is blank, almost vapid (though Straia doesn’t think the girl herself is necessarily as vapid as that look). Her words are deadpan. Maybe a joke, or maybe just because that’s how the girl is. Straia leans toward the latter, but isn’t sure yet. Either way, it does amuse her, and she cracks the hair of a smile.
The second one, Straia knows without knowing. This is the one Killdare had mentioned. The one they had collectively decided they could not help. At least, it appears that way. Though Straia doesn’t know this at all, doesn’t have an inkling. Perhaps her raven’s would have told her, but they know to stay away when she’s not in the confines of the Chamber or specifically called for. Straia does not flaunt all her talents. Just a select few, like wings. So very innocuous, those wings.
Either way, the next mare to approach seemed very much like she didn’t want to be there. But she introduced herself as the other’s had, and her son. But it’s the boy’s turn now, and he doesn’t waste time with extra words. She’s always been a fan of such a thing. She’s blunt and honest, even as a diplomat (unless she really must be otherwise). Straia would rather ask the direct question than waste time dancing around it. No one ever got the answer they wanted without just asking. Or, having ravens to go find out.
He says he is looking for a home, a place to train. Nothing more. Not very specific, and so his options are pretty damn open. “I suspect we can all offer you that,” she says with a slight grin on her face. “I certainly can. The real thing to decide is what kind of home you want. The Chamber for its part is very determined.” Some might call them evil, though Straia didn’t. They weren’t evil. They simply did whatever was best for the Chamber at the time. “You won’t find a huggy, lovely dovey family waiting for you there either. But you will find a kingdom full of loyal members, who will have your back when you need it. If that sounds like something you might like, come and look. You can always leave.”
There were no vows in the Chamber. The horses there served out of love for the kingdom, not out of fear of a tattoo. She susposed the Amazons didn’t fear their tattoos either. But rather, she didn’t find them particularly necessary to demonstrate loyalty. And she didn’t see any reason to make someone swear to love a kingdom forever. Come, stay, leave when it makes sense. As long as you love the Chamber while you serve, she had no qualms. Plus, she found that most who stayed never left anyway.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission