There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye. (Scorch, any)

[Joscelin]

joscelin

Time has passed in the world outside. While she has lingered in withdrawal, her broken body has mended (as well as it would ever mend), and her spirit has melded back together. She will never be as whole or perfect as she once had been, but she finds she no longer cares. She had been crafted in the farthest reaches of the universe, welded back together by searing magic, and she has come out the other side stronger for it. She will never be that same, carefree girl that had so gleefully trod the Dale and the meadow. But in the end, she is glad for it.

She had made a promise, and now she is here to keep it. She had left the meeting silently, her intent clear. She is already moving in the direction of the jungle, her broken body gliding easily through the air. She makes no effort to conceal herself. Rather, she arrives rather conspicuously. A flickering light travels along the black cracks covering the entirety of her body. The light, though muted, is still bright enough to be easily seen. Her soul has mended enough that she could likely prevent the light from escaping, but she sees no need to. Only a fool would take the lambent brightness, the breaks in her skin, as a sign of weakness. And should a fool approach believing they had found themselves an easy target, she would be only too happy to show them the error of their ways.

But she does not believe those of the jungle are fools. She knows that it takes a certain strength, fortitude, and cleverness to be able to survive in a place where any number of animals would be happy to have you for breakfast. This is why she had willingly put herself forth, agreed readily (even suggested) the exchange. She is under no illusion that she will be given any immediate rank or prestige. Had she wanted that, she would have remained in the Dale beside Ramiel. No, just as the Jungle princess will have to earn her place in the Dale, she will earn hers here.

As she moves past the borders of the Jungle, she deftly lowers herself to the ground. She does not stop though. Instead, she continues forward, her stride long and deft. Her inherent ability of flight keeps her from stumbling over the many tripping hazards littered along the thickly vegetated earth. The ability would stand her in good stead in this strange place.

As she continues, she follows intuition as much as she does scent and sight. She is not overly concerned about becoming lost. If she were truly to become mired in the maze of trees, she would simply move herself above the tree line. Besides, she does not doubt someone will find her soon enough.

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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@[Scorch]

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The silver cub lays wrapped around Scorch’s right fore-hoof, dozing and purring softly. With each tiny expansion of the Spirit’s chest, slivers of Scorch’s vine glow; with each diminution of the same chest, they fade away once more. Protect her at all costs, Amazon had said; and how Scorch enjoys the task. The two have formed something of a kinship, a silent understanding passed through long, uninterrupted stares or fleeting glances. And any time she may glimpse her tattoos becomes a time Scorch values deeply. So she stands in silence, watching the cub and her tattoos fixedly.

Siha – as Scorch has taken to calling her – raises her head suddenly, whiskers twitching. At her wakefulness, the mare’s tattoos cease to flash. Slightly concerned, Scorch raises her own head and gazes in the same direction. Lifting her weightless form from the Jungle soil, the cub meows persistently, looking from Scorch to what has disturbed her slumber.

A moment later, a great howler monkey sounds an alarm, and the whole Jungle screams. Chuckling softly, Scorch meets Siha’s glowing green gaze before slipping into the underbrush.

While the girl may have flight to aid her in this uncertain terrain, Scorch has a third of a century’s practice to maneuver through the fallen trees, the sequoias, the roots, and the vines. Of course, her eyesight helps her choose the surest path too. A special lid slips over her currently dusky-orange eyes, allowing her to see in heat vision. In this way, she tracks down the unfamiliar form which walks through the kingdom, and sometimes hovers above it.

“You are trespassing,” She says quietly, though a certain amount of malice backs the tone. Her lips twitch, itching to reveal bladed teeth; but none now remain for her to flaunt. “I am Scorch. Who are you, to ignore our borders so bravely, and so foolishly?” She settles her weight evenly, eyeing the smaller girl who twinkles like a firefly now and again. Eyeing the girl calmly, the Khaleesi awaits a response, cool in her demeanor, though not overly hostile.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Joscelin]

joscelin

Even in this place where silence does not seem to exist, it is impossible to miss the sudden ruckus surrounding her. Glancing into the trees, she spies the flashing form of a monkey as it swings through the dense leaf covered branches. She wonders briefly why they had not made a sound until now. Perhaps they are simply slow on the uptake. Or perhaps there is another reason they have only now begun to vociferously object to her presence.

In any case, the creatures do not hold her attention for long. When the hairless mare appears through the trees, her golden gaze shifts swiftly to her. As she had predicted, it had not taken long for someone to find her. She had never meant to intrude silently or secretively. The woman regards her with suspicion, her lips twitching as though she wishes for nothing more than to growl at her.

When she speaks, declaring her trespasser, her golden eyes flash in mild surprise. She had not considered her actions to be trespassing. These are to become her borders as well, after all. Perhaps this woman does not know of the bargain her father has made. But when she announces herself as Scorch, she knows that she must be aware. It does not occur to her that she does not even know who she is. Even were her golden eyes not distinctive, she was given to believe that her arrival had been expected.

Of course, the Khaleesi had never met her. How could she possibly know who she is upon sight?

Tilting her head slightly, she regards Scorch with bold eyes. She does not flinch at the mare’s sharp words. There is nothing this woman could inflict upon her that would come close to matching the pain of a body shattering into a thousand pieces. Nor could she possibly match the torment of being stitched back together by a hellish magic. When one has experienced such, all misery becomes relative.

She does not hesitate in answering the woman’s biting question. After all, she knows perfectly well who she is and why she is here.

I am Joscelin. As it happens, you are the one I am searching for.

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The young girl’s golden eyes flash, though with which emotion Scorch knows not. Unlike Rhy with her newfound empathy, the Khaleesi will never be a mind-reader, of any of their ilk. Only the barest form of empathy belongs to the rat-horse, taught to her by Kagerou, and maintained by conversing with Malka. Before them, the woman knew not the importance of others’ emotions, or how vital it is to be able to read them. The tilt of the young girl’s head and the boldness of her gaze means curiosity dwells within her, perhaps more. This, Scorch could derive; of much else, words were needed for clarity.

“Joscelin,” She tries the name out coolly, watching the shattered girl stand confidently within the borders. “You were sent here, I gather; and you smell of the Dale. Has Tiphon something to say?” Her words are nonjudgmental, but firm nonetheless. She sees the truth in the girl's bold eyes, and trusts that to guide their conversation.

Stepping closer, Scorch glances towards the thick canopy, and the clouds peering through above. While the flashing was pretty, in this ill-lit scene, it also disoriented her dragon-eyes. Drawing on her twilight manipulation, Scorch bends the darkness into a pleasant middle-ground where the flashing no longer caused her head to hurt. She smiles slightly.

“Has my daughter Ea made it there safely? And the boy Dalten, too?” She asks after a pause, tone lighter than before, though equally husky. If this girl come from whence she smelt, she ought to know. While Scorch may not be the Best Mother of the Decade, some small parts of her yearned for her children’s safety. Nine child-births later, and she has learned a thing or two; but don’t hold her to being magnificent at the whole ordeal. Gazing down at the girl, the hardness remains behind her colourful eyes, as though the thoughts behind them are barricaded in, never to be released.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Joscelin]

joscelin

For a moment, the tension feels nearly thick enough to slice. But once she has announced herself, declaring who she seeks, a small amount of that heavy pressure is released. Joscelin does not sigh in relief, nor does she relax as others might. She had never been terribly strained to begin with. Her golden eyes continue to study the hairless woman, frankness and a faint hint of curiosity in her gaze. This woman – this queen – could teach her much. It is not in her nature to sit idly while the world passes her by. She could already sense that the same is true of this mare. She knows that Scorch can help her to realize her own goals and dreams. Even had she not clearly known why she was here, she would know this.

Unexpectedly, the Jungle around them darkens. Though it is not total blackness, it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. Her golden eyes fix upon the woman with interest, her flashing skin bright within the darkness. Quite suddenly, the light blinks out, the cracks scoring her body black against her red and white coat. Her perceptive gaze catches Scorch’s for a long moment. She listens quietly as the woman speaks, asking her if her father had sent a message. In truth, it was not her father that had sent her so much as her brother. Neither had sent a message. The arrangement had been made, the deal struck, and as far as the broken girl is aware, there is naught else to say.

I have no message. My brother has ascended the throne, though he is aware and willing to uphold your arrangement with my father.

She quiets as Scorch continues speaking, asking after her daughter and another boy. She blinks as the girl’s name causes recognition to flare within her. Though she had not seen Ea within the Dale, she had met her some time ago in the meadow. At the time, she had not known that the stoic girl who had come across her felling ancient oaks was the very same daughter who would be princess in the Dale. Given this revelation, she thinks briefly that she will have to seek her out again. Surely she could not be too difficult to find.

Of Ea, I neither saw nor heard anything. I did see a strange young stallion a time before I left, though I did not meet him, so I cannot say with certainty that it was Dalten. I’m sure my brother would be happy to inform me of their safe arrival.

She meets the woman’s hard gaze with her own bright one. She could readily and easily return to the Dale for such information. For someone who would need to walk, the journey would likely take several hours. For her, the journey would take only a handful of minutes. It is an advantage she would willingly and happily use.

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The young woman holds her gaze bravely, just as Scorch once held her own mother’s in tense times (which usually happened to be any time they bumped into each other). Unlike Scorch’s obstinate, brazen teenager-stares, Joscelin is bold and calm.

Impressive.

Otherwise motionless, Scorch’s ear twitches when she notices the lack of lights flashing. A smirk grows in her dragon eyes, shifting their colour to a glowering red, reminiscent of her stolen tattoos. Finding herself completely at ease with their odd chemistry, Scorch tries her hand at part-shifting. 

While Joscelin speaks, two horns sprout slowly from the tip of the Khaleesi’s nose. Such exact shifting demands extreme concentration; but Scorch has been practising, and it isn’t in her to miss the chance to do whatever it is they are doing. Not a show of power necessarily, but perhaps of something else she could not quite explain with words.

“I am pleased to hear of Ramiel’s wise decision,” She comments lowly. “And I will accept any news of the Jungle children.” Muscular shoulder’s rippling, Scorch allows a moment of irritation to peek through her titanium walls. “They ought to have arrived by now.”

“But don’t fuss over them. You’re here now… And just where will I place you, princess?” Boundary finding; Scorch’s favourite hobby. She smirks.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Joscelin]

there's a song in your lung
and a dream in your eye

Bravery is easy when one knows what lay beyond the boundaries of death. There is little left to fear when life has been put so ruthlessly into perspective by an unkind universe. For her, it is easy to face challenges with bold equanimity when there is little the dragon woman could do to her that might be worse than has already been done. She has no need to prove anything. Not in this respect, at least.

The absence of her lights are noted, with the smirk lingering on Scorch’s lips offering ample proof. She experiences a brief moment of confusion as the woman’s face begins to distort, several lumps forming along the bridge of her hairless nose. As the amorphous bulges slowly begin to take form, one brow tilts up. The double horns take shape, eliciting the fractured mare’s amusement. It seems they had come to the point of subtle vaunting. It brings a quirk to her lips, a small sign of her internal mirth.

She speaks then, mundane words in comparison to the sideshow they both seem to have fallen into. And Joscelin, for all her occasional maturity, cannot help but respond in kind. The black cracks scoring her body slowly begin to shine with a dim light, pulsing in time to her steady heartbeat. Her ears are tipped forward to catch her words, and she smiles then. A wry smile, acknowledging the subtle jab of her words.

The curving of her lips is the only indication of her reaction to Scorch’s gibe.

I think that I would like to be placed in both rankings until I find what fits me best. I do not have the silver tongue of my mother or father, though I learned plenty of diplomacy from them, but my battle skills are untested as yet.

She pauses then, golden eyes silently studying the Khaleesi.

In the interest of bettering those skills, which kingdoms might I challenge?

joscelin

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[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

As the horns solidify upon the bridge of her nose, Joscelin’s lips shift subtly into what Scorch could vaguely identify as an amused smile. The calm between them remains undisturbed by their jostling sideshow, which only adds to the laughter glittering in her molten eyes. As she speaks, the shattered woman allows a dim light to seep through the cracks decorating her body, and then to begin pulsating. At nearly the same moment, wry smiles stretch across their cracked or charred lips.
 
Joscelin elicits only the smirk in response to Scorch’s poke before continuing on their entirely mature, adult conversation. The Khaleesi dips her head in acknowledgment to the bay’s request, agreeing with her tactic. Better to do both than to do neither; at least this way she’s truly committing herself to the Jungle. Which is more than I can say for my daughter. Fucker.
 
When Joscelin pauses, studying Scorch carefully, the mare’s eyes shift slowly from red to electric teal. Just a final tip of her hat, if you will. “The Tundra, Deserts, Falls and Dale are our allies. Everyone else? Yours to play with.” As though to encourage said ‘play time,’ Scorch smiles roguishly, though never reveals her teeth. Ever since the fairy took away her bladed hooves and teeth, well, she’s been a little more reserved with her expression.
 
“I suggest you immerse yourself in the sisterhood, Joscelin. You needn’t take the oath during your stay here, but to know us is to be us. You’ll find us quite the diverse bunch of rapscallions.” Dipping her fearsomely horned head, Scorch takes a confident step backwards. “And in the interest of your socialization, I will take my leave from you. Farewell, princess.” And with one final smirk, the Khaleesi pivots and departs, a little pool of light trailing where hoof steps ought to be.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle