love is a temporary madness... {diplomats, any}

[Engelsfors]

	There is nothing more homely, safe, like the scent of pine and earth. The Chamber has become to me, like a second skin, like the need to breathe air, the want for the earthy dirt beneath my feet, the crunch of pine needles. I need the chamber, like the sun needs the sky, the moon needs the night. And it has become part of me, like the twigs and the burrs that braid my gossamer mane. The idle afternoon is blissful, the sunlight comes like spires through the thickened summer foliage, pierces through the darkness of the boundary, and kisses my golden coat with a gentle touch. Warmth, it knits between my sinew and bone and fills me with the sense of satisfaction that not only have I a home, but a purpose, a meaning to life. Something my mother had never truly had (of which she claimed much, but knew was not true.) My crown lifts, hearing the swirling of the deadened leaves, the scent of another soon flutters against my nostrils. I inhale, deeply, and mixed with the familiar scent of pine is something new, something wild, free. My hindlegs spur me on, my powerful haunches pushing me out of the copse of trees at a steady canter, rhythmic and smooth. Sapphire eyes look about the clearing, finding not a single shadow cast, then my eyes turn towards the heavens and there, is the stranger. A proverbial brow is lifted and a glimmer of curiosity and intrigue sparkles in my gemstone eyes. When she lands, I sidle up towards her, flinty hooves breaking a crescendo against the needled earth. I whicker, a voice as darkly seductive as the smooth shadows, swirled with a brewing pot of magic. Sultry and smooth. 'That is quite an entrance.' I remark, eyes gliding over her russet bay form. She was rather a specimen of beauty, someone my mother would have liked, as always to her, appearances meant everything. Well, she turns in her grave now, for my glimmering coat now had a sheen of ash and dirt. Still leggy, still beautiful, but not as well kept as I had been once before. 'You have reasons behind this visit, no? For I have not seen you grace these borders before.' My gilt ears swivel atop my crown, gossamer threads languid against my neck as I weave a few steps around her, perhaps considered predatory, but more so just a curious examination. she knew something, this stranger, for she did not cross the borders of a land she did not wish to interrupt. A smooth, debonair smile, all diplomacy, all black magic, weaves itself at my lips. 'I'm Engelsfors.'