"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She can’t help the smile that crosses her face at the sound of his call. Her Uncle’s voice has grown familiar over the years, and his absence had been noticeable. Expected, of course, and she still knows that he may only be here to tell her that he will not be returning. That he will follow his brother to the Valley. It was a gamble she had made when she allowed Eight to crown her, when she had offered her father as the payment.
Though she still owed Eight something else. Something he had not yet decided, but in truth, she would fight him if his decision harmed her kingdom. She didn’t care. She had her crown and the things she wanted, and while he could take it all away, she didn’t think angering him or not would stop that. Eight could do as he pleased, but in the end, she was more valuable to him as an ally than an enemy.
She’s been wandering the pine forests with Erebor, but she leans down and with a light touch to his shoulder, “Stay here for a bit, okay? I’ll call you over soon.” He’s perhaps too young to leave wandering about by himself – at least some other mothers might think so. But she trusts that he’ll be alright inside the Chamber’s borders. Between Warship and herself, the boy rarely didn’t have some level of an eye on him. He was the beginning of the next generation in the Chamber – something they desperately needed. It made him all the more precious.
She finds Kavi easily enough and greets him with a nod, though he’s obviously lost in his own thoughts. She laughs slightly as he startles, unable to help herself, but she doesn’t speak until he does. The news is better than she expected, and she grins. “You don’t have to reclaim it. It’s always been yours. You just had to decide to take it.” She had left him as governor because to remove him seemed premature, seemed like she was asking for him to go. And that was far from the case. “Don’t apologize. I’m would have understood if you left, but I admit, I’m glad you decided to stay.”
But then he switches topics, calling over his son that she’s heard so much about. The boy is a yearling now – so quickly the year has disappeared before her – and golden like Rayelle and Kora and Rhy. Unlike her and her father. Unlike her own son. The boy says nothing, and Straia casts Kavi a quick glance, a question in that glance, though she can draw her own assumptions. Perhaps he’s shy, but she doubts that. Not with Kavi as a father. “Welcome to the Chamber, Bergamont. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”
She smiles warmly at the boy, before turning back to Kavi who’s asking about her own time. ”Ah, yes, well,” she laughs, shaking her head slightly before letting out a call for her own son. “I suppose you might as well meet the newest member of the family,” she says, turning around as her son makes his way out of the pine forests and toward the group. He looks like Warship. Likely, she won’t need to tell Kavi who the father is. Though it does seem amusing that their last conversation had ended with her wanting nothing to do with children. But then again, they hadn’t been useful to her. As Queen, she needed a child or two. And moreover, the Chamber needed new blood. Loyal blood. Her son would be that. She would make certain of it.
Like his mother, he loves the pine forests. Although really, he's coming to love every inch of the Chamber. He is lucky, although he does not know it – many before him have been born to positions like his, and found their intended home wholly unsuitable. But to Erebor, it is a perfect fit. It is almost as though he had been born from the land, rather than from two of those most dedicated to it.
When his mother tells him to wait, the boy does not think of doing anything but obeying. He follows her to just within earshot, knowing her well enough to understand that she is likely to call for him. He does not follow her from a sense of codependence; much as she does not fear for his welfare, he does not crave her attentions or her presence. Rather, he understands that she needs him to make an appearance, that for whatever reason it is impossible for him to greet these horses with her right now. And because he is Erebor, he does not see it as a slight, does not resent being made to wait as perhaps most colts would. He simply waits.
And when she calls him, his movements toward her are swift. He sizes up the various participants in the conversation with quick eyes as he approaches. He can see that Straia knows them somehow; it's written in the familiarity of her body, the way she relates to them. He may be young, but he is already starting to read these things. The boy is nothing if not precocious.
As he approaches, they would no doubt see his father in him. He is as black as Warship, with few markings. He is still young and has yet to grow into his body, but even so he carries himself with a certain dignity, as though he were born to walk these forests (which, really, he pretty much was). Reaching the group, he greets them with a dignified nod.
"Kavi, Bergamot," he greets each in turn. His voice is calmer, more sedate than most foals. There is no childish excitement to his tones, but his voice is pleasant nonetheless. The sensation is almost that of talking to an adult in a child's body. "Hello." he offers with a gentle ghost of a smile. It's not quite as polished and diplomatic as it will be when he's older, but especially for one so young…well, it's uncanny.
Though he was mute and would never utter a sound, Bergamot was born a horse of few words by nature as well as necessity. As he had grown over the last year, his childish leanings had slowly faded away into a more pragmatic adult way of thinking. As he emerged at the call of his father there was no question that the palomino boy was Kavi's son. Of a similar height and with the same lines to their face(though his hazel eyes were his mother's, large and luminous), Bergamot was proving to be a handsome youth. His arched neck bowed the finely lined face at his cousin, accepting her greeting silently.
The boy was not shy but he was wary, still not always sure when it was appropriate to reveal his flaw and the trait that sometimes made up for it. In the end, he settled for painting his coat to blend in with the earthy pines that surrounded him. Along his body the view from the forest floor was visible, a snippet of his trip to where they stood. Gloom surrounded the looming trees in a haunting but strangely beautiful way. It was so different from the boisterous Jungle that was full of life, color, and noise. Bergamot didn't find the quiet of the pines disturbing, it was peaceful and had a mystery and danger to it that he found he wanted to explore and was pleased that his father would be living here so that he might have an excuse to visit.
Before long the boy would have to choose his home. The Amazons would keep him, if he asked. But he would never be an equal but a servant. Bergamot could serve, he could swallow his pride, but he would never abide disrespect or being relegated to the level of 'for breeding purposes and recreation only'. It occurred to him that being introduced to his extended family was his father's way of guiding him, showing him his options. But for now the boy would observe politely.
Reaching his nose over to brush against his father's withers he seemed to urge his father to speak, explain. While he waited for his father to give them the words that he couldn't, he walked towards the dark colt in a friendly and curious way. They were months apart in age but Bergamot sensed that this child would mature as quickly as he was forced to and if he had the choice, they would be friendly.
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
Straia arrives seamlessly, chuckling at my antics and promising me my position. She’s all smiles, something I love to see on the faces of my family. Her happiness is my own, truly. “I know you’re glad – you wouldn’t go far without me.” Winking, I allow a chuckle to echo hers. Though my words are but a jibe, there is truth in them, too. When it comes down to it, Straia could never manage without someone as silver-tongued as I am. Or maybe she would, but with many enemies.
As Bergamot arrives, Straia offers me a questioning glance. I only shake my head in response, though the action is very small. I do not wish to necessarily embarrass Bergamot, so I allow Straia to make the assumption based on my actions and his silence. Perhaps she will recall Rhaego’s muteness, and put two and two together. Perhaps she will realize that I am a carrier of the disease.
Straia yanks me out of my darkening thoughts, for which I am grateful. In the very next moment, however, I am open-mouthed in surprise, and look like an utter buffoon. ”You don’t mean…” But oh, she does. Another small male figure slips free of the forest just as Straia begins the introductions, and by the time she’s finished, I’ve smartened up, though my eyes are still wildly – if not a little mockingly – surprised.
“Hullo, Erebor! You are one lucky fellow to be existing right now, considering your mother’s swear of chastity not too long ago.” A boisterous laugh accompanies the throw-back of my head. ”In fact, I’m entirely shocked. Entirely. Warship must have you under some type of evil spell, Straia.”
Bergamot brushes his nose to my withers with a meaningful glance, and I smile at him, trying tremendously to keep any sad notes from affecting it. Nudging him gently as he approaches Erebor, I look to my niece. “He’s mute, but you’ll find that he has no need for a mouth to be able to speak.”
Kavi jests in response, and she expects. And she has come to enjoy the easy familiarity that exists between her and her Uncle, a family connection she has truthfully never had in anyone else. Other than Oksana. But how short lived that moment had been. Lu didn’t speak to her. Rodrik was gone (unsurprisingly). Her father had never really introduced her to her family unless they had come to them. He may have loved his family, but he had done a terrible job of imparting that on Straia. She loved them, but she had never been given a chance to know them.
”I think you underestimate how charming I can be.” Charming is not her natural state. She prefers blunt and honest. Life is easier that way. Though she’s quite capable of playing a very good diplomat. She is her father’s daughter, and she knows how to manipulate. But of course, Kavi knows this too. Still, she’s perfectly content to leave the bulk of the diplomacy up to Kavi. It’s his forte, after all.
Then Erebor arrives. Kavi’s surprise is well justified. Straia had of course told him she wouldn’t be starting a brood of children any time soon. And to be fair, she hadn’t. She had one. Though she would have more eventually, because the Chamber needed it, and she would always do what the Chamber needed her to do. But for the time, Erebor was more than enough. The boy was dedicated and smart and quick. Hopefully, whenever she did have more, she could produce a few more replicas of him. The prodigal son of the Chamber. She expected that one day he’d far surpass her. But that’s the goal, right? To make your children better than you were?
”I do believe I told you I wouldn’t have a whole horde of them,” she says with a grin. “It’s just the one.” Of course, the unspoken truth is that the Chamber needed members. This wasn’t a guaranteed way of getting them, but it was perhaps the easiest. Her son has no delusions of why he exists, just as she didn’t have any delusions about why she existed. She simply loved her son anyway, in a way her father had not. In a way that suited both mother and son very well.
Bergamont has changed colors in the course of the conversation, and Kavi confirms what Straia had suspected as the boy reaches out to nudge his father. She smiles at the boy though, nodding slightly as Kavi speaks. “No, he needs no more at all. That is far more magnificent.” She loves her forests, loves seeing them painted on someone else’s skin as well. And she knows too in that moment exactly what Kavi has given up to stay here, and she nods her thanks to him as well.
straia
queen of the chamber
I'm so far behind, I know, sorry guys. If you want to end this thread here we totally can. I know it's pretty out of date at this point.
It has never occurred to him that he might be a…curiosity, so to speak. But he doesn't have long to think on his uncle's surprise, because it's only a few moments and Kavi is speaking. The boy offers him a small smile in response; he's still learning the hang of being charming, really. "I am lucky." he says, agreeing completely. Anyone would be lucky to live where he lives, cradled by the Chamber and raised by two of its finest. Not that it's exactly a competition at the moment – there's so few of them.
His mother and his uncle banter a bit, and the boy takes careful notes. He appreciates the way that Kavi seems to decorate his words, the way he has small smiles and quick wits and warmth. Erebor is not interested in that kind of warmth himself; it's not his thing, the joviality, but he sees it as a tool that he can use. Already, despite being almost unbelievably young, he's starting to think strategically. Yes, perhaps he will one day surpass Straia, but if he does, it will be in large part because of his breeding and upbringing. He is a curious child, always eager to learn, and above all eager to throw everything he has into his work for his home.
Truly, he was born to be the prince.
Bergamot approaches him then, delicately reaching out his nose, and the boy returns the gesture without hesitation. Family, Bergamot is family, and family should always be friends. He smiles, a small smile, but as genuine as he gets. "The pine forests." he breathes, looking at his cousin's coat. He's rarely seen them looking so magnificent in his lifetime. They're still regrowing, still recovering from the intense damage that had been done to them when the disasters had ripped across Beqanna. "You're very talented, cousin." he says, his voice impressed, meaning every word. He is not jealous of the boy, jealousy is not and never will be something that he feels, but he is glad to have someone with those talents in the family. It could only be a benefit, after all.
"Where are you living, cousin?" his voice is cool, but not harsh. He hasn't quite mastered the art of being charming to one's family, and perhaps he never will. Perhaps he, like his mother, will be charming when it's necessary. After all, it's just so efficient that way.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia
Ending this thread probably makes sense. But then I wrote a reply anyway so I guess just pay no attention to me
