08-23-2018, 09:42 PM
She'd been there.
The nightmares, the pressure, the angst over a man - not because of bastard children, or cheating, or whatever she was going through; but her husband had sold himself to the devil, they had been apart for years, she knew lonesomeness and doubt and the chaos of a mind left loveless - she had been there. Waking up in the middle of the night with no one there to reassure her that it had just been a dream; seeing things in the Jungle that she half-heartedly chalked up to the leopard spirit at the time, though truthfully, she feared insanity. She'd been there, gods, how she'd been there...
And she would be there again.
But today, it was not her place to be the one suffering. Despite learning to overcome the defeat and sadness of infertility, Scorch was over all well, if not a little stressed for the wellbeing of Nerine. It's almost fate that, as she wandered during the early hours of this particular day, she found her Queen's namesake. Wishbone. The scent of ancient decay was subtly in the air, and it took some maneuvering for Scorch to align the tubes of marrow in such a way as to be able to read them (or at least, to decipher their meaning). A knot burrowed its way through her broad chest as oft it did in times of unrest in the kingdom; and indeed this was one of those times, though she suspected that she was the first of the Leviathans to truly discover just how unrested.
Swallowing (more than just spit; she swallowed disappointment and shame, she swallowed fear for one she considered a child and one whom she'd apprenticed; she swallowed fear for the future and a dread sea of hopelessness; she'd faced worse, she could do this...), Scorch turned away from the decorative and hollow goodbye, in search for she whom it indicated. Breckin needed to know; needed to know that she'd just inherited a throne. A crown. A kingdom.
It made sense, that it would be Breckin - Scorch would have chosen none other, had her advice been sought on the topic. But as of late, she had not been sought at all by her wild bay Khaleesi. It seemed as if no one would be again for quite sometime.
The sun just began rising as Scorch broke through the thin birch forest, tumbling collectedly on to the grey sand beach. Morning twilight. Her lips tugged downward at the thought, and like one who stood not two hundred yards ahead hurling sea shells at a rock wall, Scorch's powers came subconsciously to her side. All around her, beads of light and dark with the mass of pebbles flew, seemingly too quick for her to be able to evade the sting of their impact against her body; but they obeyed her even subconsciously, and so as she stalked, she appeared more as a whirling ball of light and dark than any equine. She would find it funny, if she knew about Breckin's most recent hallucination; but she didn't know, and she didn't find it funny.
Unsure of what exactly she felt, Scorch allowed her dragon eyes to see far ahead to where her unsuspecting queen threw the last of her seashell arsenal. Brows furrowing in concern, the mare hastened her step. By the time she neared, Breckin had her head resting against the rockface, sides gently heaving with a last round of sobs that Scorch could only guess at.
Leilan...?
Feeling helpless now that she had two topics to choose from, one being a rulership that Breckin had no clue or warning about, and the other being about her own damned son who she'd just essentially cut all ties with (by accident, though she had a knack for fucking things up with her children), Scorch halted some twenty feet away. Her whirling orb still surrounded her like a defensive cloak, and she kept it there for a moment longer, needing its shielding such that she could gather her thoughts; but in the end, she too sent her magicks into the rockface. The cliff responded with an ancient, tectonic groan, and with a tremour that left the mare feeling somewhat woozy; but the moment passed, and the time came for her to approach.
"Breckin..."
My Queen, she almost said. My son is crying over you, she almost said. Her eyes flashed purple, then green, then blue. She didn't know what to say. Biting her inner lips, the advisor tried to steel herself and to be stern such that she could just up and get this over with; but sometimes, ever fires must become embers, and sometimes, even leopards must become docile house cats.
"There is news. But you are not well." Scorch stepped closer, not meeting Breckin's gaze, nor reaching out to touch her, but rather standing alonside and slightly behind her as a mesenger or a servant might. Her tone would almost be bland, had it not been for her great show of emotion just a moment before. "Do what you must to collect yourself... For it the road ahead does not get easier, though I will be by you every step of the way."
The nightmares, the pressure, the angst over a man - not because of bastard children, or cheating, or whatever she was going through; but her husband had sold himself to the devil, they had been apart for years, she knew lonesomeness and doubt and the chaos of a mind left loveless - she had been there. Waking up in the middle of the night with no one there to reassure her that it had just been a dream; seeing things in the Jungle that she half-heartedly chalked up to the leopard spirit at the time, though truthfully, she feared insanity. She'd been there, gods, how she'd been there...
And she would be there again.
But today, it was not her place to be the one suffering. Despite learning to overcome the defeat and sadness of infertility, Scorch was over all well, if not a little stressed for the wellbeing of Nerine. It's almost fate that, as she wandered during the early hours of this particular day, she found her Queen's namesake. Wishbone. The scent of ancient decay was subtly in the air, and it took some maneuvering for Scorch to align the tubes of marrow in such a way as to be able to read them (or at least, to decipher their meaning). A knot burrowed its way through her broad chest as oft it did in times of unrest in the kingdom; and indeed this was one of those times, though she suspected that she was the first of the Leviathans to truly discover just how unrested.
Swallowing (more than just spit; she swallowed disappointment and shame, she swallowed fear for one she considered a child and one whom she'd apprenticed; she swallowed fear for the future and a dread sea of hopelessness; she'd faced worse, she could do this...), Scorch turned away from the decorative and hollow goodbye, in search for she whom it indicated. Breckin needed to know; needed to know that she'd just inherited a throne. A crown. A kingdom.
It made sense, that it would be Breckin - Scorch would have chosen none other, had her advice been sought on the topic. But as of late, she had not been sought at all by her wild bay Khaleesi. It seemed as if no one would be again for quite sometime.
The sun just began rising as Scorch broke through the thin birch forest, tumbling collectedly on to the grey sand beach. Morning twilight. Her lips tugged downward at the thought, and like one who stood not two hundred yards ahead hurling sea shells at a rock wall, Scorch's powers came subconsciously to her side. All around her, beads of light and dark with the mass of pebbles flew, seemingly too quick for her to be able to evade the sting of their impact against her body; but they obeyed her even subconsciously, and so as she stalked, she appeared more as a whirling ball of light and dark than any equine. She would find it funny, if she knew about Breckin's most recent hallucination; but she didn't know, and she didn't find it funny.
Unsure of what exactly she felt, Scorch allowed her dragon eyes to see far ahead to where her unsuspecting queen threw the last of her seashell arsenal. Brows furrowing in concern, the mare hastened her step. By the time she neared, Breckin had her head resting against the rockface, sides gently heaving with a last round of sobs that Scorch could only guess at.
Leilan...?
Feeling helpless now that she had two topics to choose from, one being a rulership that Breckin had no clue or warning about, and the other being about her own damned son who she'd just essentially cut all ties with (by accident, though she had a knack for fucking things up with her children), Scorch halted some twenty feet away. Her whirling orb still surrounded her like a defensive cloak, and she kept it there for a moment longer, needing its shielding such that she could gather her thoughts; but in the end, she too sent her magicks into the rockface. The cliff responded with an ancient, tectonic groan, and with a tremour that left the mare feeling somewhat woozy; but the moment passed, and the time came for her to approach.
"Breckin..."
My Queen, she almost said. My son is crying over you, she almost said. Her eyes flashed purple, then green, then blue. She didn't know what to say. Biting her inner lips, the advisor tried to steel herself and to be stern such that she could just up and get this over with; but sometimes, ever fires must become embers, and sometimes, even leopards must become docile house cats.
"There is news. But you are not well." Scorch stepped closer, not meeting Breckin's gaze, nor reaching out to touch her, but rather standing alonside and slightly behind her as a mesenger or a servant might. Her tone would almost be bland, had it not been for her great show of emotion just a moment before. "Do what you must to collect yourself... For it the road ahead does not get easier, though I will be by you every step of the way."
![[Image: scorch2.png]](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d3f8827d56fd033f445fc5aa8055947a/3778d5ee43303690-eb/s1280x1920/532e323d08dfe066db7c4d27a9277d571bf7cdb2.jpg)