She knew everything that went on in her kingdom even before the raven’s started informing her. Now she just knows it faster. And tonight, she is awake when the ravens tell her the news. Such good little spies they are, and though perhaps Straia should feel guilty for knowing so many very private things, she doesn’t. She simply plans to be discrete about exactly what she knows. Somewhat, anyway.
Straia slips out of the copse of trees, less ash and more life now than in so long. The Chamber is growing, flourishing – both the trees and the members. How long had it been since the kingdom hummed with life like this? They could still be better (they could always be better), but she’s endlessly proud of what they have become as well. Proud as well that every one of them strives to be better yet.
She spots the golden mare easily enough. Straia, unlike Engelsfors, does sleep. But not all the time. There’s are certain benefits to being awake, and so she often roams at night, catching sleep here and there when she finds the time for it. Being Queen leaves little time for much else, and though she doesn’t mind, she does enjoy her sleep now and again. But tonight, she feels like being nosey.
Straia lets out a quiet nicker, not wanting to startle the other. Yes, sometimes she is actually polite. She does know how. It’s just a matter of her mood, and who she’s talking to. “Engelsfors,” she says, her voice as warm as her smoky, cool voice can ever be. “How are you? You seem to be settling in here well.”
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission