Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones
The feeling was like that of grasping the details of a dream upon waking. Vague and aloof, always just out of reach. The signature pelt of the once Governor stirred in the twilight, more brown than red without the sun to highlight the russet undertones within the fibers of his coat. His dark eyes blinked the sleep away as he tried to pinpoint the feeling, and he sighed in frustration. There was only a notion of sadness and alarm but that was all. The autumn hair pulled at him, urged him up, forward and the stallion was considering giving into the wind’s whims. He had stayed in the shadows after Killdare had been found, returned from the powers that be having forgotten almost everyone. Save Malis, he had never truly forgotten her. The rest of us, well we were a blur of his own distant memories forever just out of reach. This “new” Beqanna had taken his drive, and Nymphetamine had tried to find his purpose but he was unable to pick up where he was before. Where he was once muscular and filled out he was soft and hollow. Not sick, no just not fit. Gone were the days of distant travel and long stretched of galloping across plains and meadow, for now, he stayed mostly to the shadows. He thought back to those days and missed them dearly, Tephra was home, but he didn’t think it would ever have his heart as Chamber had.
And as with many things the moment he allowed his thoughts to leave the dream he had been so focused on to that of the past the notion that had stirred him from his shadowy slumber returned. Killdare. Nymphetamine’s nostrils flared and an urgent panic sat at the back of his throat, his legs scattered beneath him as he frantically pulled himself up. Up out of the shadows, out of his isolation, and out of his self-centered thoughts and memories. Sometimes you just sense things, there were always unspoken powers working within Beqanna and Nymph took this to be one of those moments. One of those times that you accept the higher power and maybe even thank it. The night was waning quickly, was quickly upon them. It had been many moons since He had seen Kildare and in the moment the Necromancer was kicking himself for wasting time. Wasting moment, wasting memories, wasting away. He would be lucky to make it in time, but he would try.
The crisp sunburnt grasses crunch under his hooves as he cantered off in the direction of the beach, following the faint scent of Killdare and Malis. Nymphetamine ran on, mind racing and berating himself for months on complacency, assuming things could and would be the same when he once again found his way. Time seemed to race but stay still all at the same time as he moved from thought to thought, as the scenery changed and shifted around him. Muscles ached from the prolonged effort of covering such a distance at the rushed tempo he held. But after a time he had reached the beach. His eyes scanned the shore, as salt accosted his nose and the relentless rush of waves hailed his ears. In the distance he saw Offspring, tall and statuesque forever the poised and composed leader. There were others some he recognized as children of Killdare, and as he drew closer he realized he had not made it in time to say goodbye to the stallion that had been his closest brother at arms, and the truest leader he had ever known. Malis lay beside her fallen lover, openly grieving now that he no longer needed her strength.
Nymphetamine had grown up under the eye of the green-eyed stallion. Killdare had taken him from a brash and brazen youth, given him a second chance when most would have exiled him, and then lead him to rule Chamber’s diplomates. Nymphetamine was never sure if it was Chamber he served for the land itself or if it was actually Killdare. He would never know, but he knew Killdare deserved the most honorable of send offs. A noble soul and distinguished leader he blood bay knew he would not leave until the dead was done. By this time he stood next to the dark pelt of Offspring, he looked to the stallion who was much the opposite of himself, his head dipped in solemn greeting, but no words were needed. Nymphetamine wanted nothing more than to go back in time to have more time. It was Killdare who had bound them all together as allies and cohorts of a greater purpose, he knew that now, and as soon as they had lost Killdare they had scattered… it seemed fitting that he had brought them together one last time.
He liked to believe they stood watch over the vigil. Two close friends and allies, there when it mattered until the very end.
But even then as those who came spoke their farewell’s and whispered their memories Offspring too left Nymphetamine's sike and spoke his piece settingly beside the grieving mare. Malis never budged, and a small smile took hold. He had not been able to find that kind of love, and he was glad Killdare had the comfort as he passed. He watched from his post, the silent sentinel, memories playing across his mind. Of their first meeting in the Meadow, to the treks to distant kingdoms full of banter and jovial name calling, to the quiet serious moments in the thick of Chamber’s pine forest, the moments Killdare so desperately wanted to do away with him due to his endless drama with Kimber, The endless stream of nicknames crafted to perfection. However, it was the subtle moments that Nymphetamine cherished with his once and always King the most. The quiet moments of confidence and pride in the work they were completing, the vision they shared.
He walked forward, having waited alone in his memories for long enough. He didn’t touch the cool body of Killdare, it was for Malis only, and he dared not disturb her final moments with him. But he shared their space for the moments he said farewell. For that it how it had always been, when he thought about it, Malis and Killdare and anyone else shared their space for they belonged to each other. A deep exhale was all the stalling the bay had left, and when it was gone he knew if he didn’t whisper his thoughts now there would be no choking them out. His emotions were already thick in the back of his throat tightening his jaw in resistance. "You left us too soon Killdare. I’m not ready for a world without King Hot Pants’ guidance…." A small cry broke through his efforts but it wasn’t without a tiny laugh at his favorite nickname for the once-magma king. Even with the several attempts to finish his thoughts fully, he was unable to. Instead, he choked out a simple Thank you.
Thank you your teaching me,
To be a leader.
To be fair.
To be just.
To be loyal.
To find your truth.
For Everything.
It had never been Chamber, it had been Killdare, and Nymphetamine knew he would have followed Killdare to the end of the world had he asked, even if he didn’t. He pulled himself away, and retreated to a distance, far enough away, where he would stand watch until the end. He watched the fire be built, he watched Killdare's body go into flames, and it was so perfectly fitting. I’ll make you proud, Killdare, I promise. Your legacy will continue, we won’t let them forget. The fire danced in the ever-brightening sky, and Nymphetamine left into the new day, knowing no day would ever be as bright without the green-eyed Magma King walking amongst them.
NYMPHETAMINE
Restless Lone Wranger, Once Governor of Chamber
well i h8 all 3 of you. tear jerkers.