WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The Sisters trickle back into the woodwork of their kingdom until none but Scorch remains. In other kingdoms, it might be silent when one stands in solidarity; here, the chaos is never ending. Alone beneath the Grandfather tree, Scorch immerses herself in the glorious cacophony that is the Jungle. Shutting her various eyelids, the fire-woman breathes in the heady scent of sequoia, listens to the vulgarity of the talking parrots, and tastes the humidity. Even without sight, the Amazon stimulates her. It drives her to be more.

Yet some day, she shall fall.

The position of Erinak should be held by the one whom she trusts most to carry the crown succeeding her reign, yet this has not come to be. Instead, Scorch has found the position wanting; wanting someone whom she trusts herself, not someone the Jungle trusts. In this way, Malka has secured the title. Not because she will be the next Khaleesi - and not because she won’t be, mind you – but because Scorch trusts her with every fiber of her being.

”I’ll try harder next time.” The joke falls harshly from her anciently scarred lips, though those self-same lips curve into a foxish grin in the same moment. Shifting a mightily muscled and intricately scarred leg, Scorch bumps the flat of her head to Malka’s shoulder in a show of friendship. Ah, how they fit together, like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together out of sheer desperation.

”Where,” She says heavily, and with an all too serious, mature, adult look, ”The fuck have you been?”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

”The hairless-one.” You use the term as though poor old Scorchie’s baldness has forever defected her from average treatment! True, she has not sparred in far too long (considering that monarchs cannot be challenged and all) but she hasn’t been Khaleesi for that long.

Regardless, Scorch squeals at her friend’s haughty reaction, lunging forwards as Malka retreats with a loud click of her bladed teeth. It would be no good to actually harm the poor haired-one!

As planned, however, Scorch steps back and begins her reprimanding. Malka, ever the innocent one, rolls her shoulders in the horse-variant of a shrug. Scorch’s smile wanes as the mare speaks, though her ears remain tipped forward, a gesture which few receive.

“I never said I was surprised,” She chuckled, the low sound reverberating in the large clearing. “But I’m glad the Jungle has got you on a leash. There’ll come a day when I actually need you to do something besides listen to me vent.” Scorch says this lightly, for she is not attempting to undermine how valuable the quetzal-shifting mare is to her. If Malka didn’t resurface every so often, Scorch would likely go about as insane as she.

“But you’re here now, so let me ask your opinion on a matter of certain importance.” She pauses, eyeing Malka almost hesitantly. Her body stiffens, ears tilting back; clearly this topic is one she brings up with great reluctance. Alas, she must be ready for anything. She will not die like Echion, or become injured like Brunhild. She will have a plan. “Who should be the ‘legitimate’ Erinak, if you will.” It’s a sideways attempt at asking who to name the next Khaleesi, but Scorch is proud. She cannot just yet admit to the knowledge of her own failing, even if that failing comes in a future which not one of the Sisters can imagine.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Malka’s assumption that her response is not the one Scorch seeks is correct, and Scorch gives her a pointed, exasperated look at the simple reply. When Malka continues, her expression becomes placated, although continuously involved and interested. While many sisters resented Malka for her lackadaisical activity, Scorch held it not above the quetzal-mare’s head. She remembers all too clearly the years she spent frequenting the darkest corners of the Jungle; she remembers the grief and oppression which came with reality, and the fake sense of relief which the evasiveness bought her. Even now, she can disappear for days at a time. In this way, Scorch as absolutely no right to judge.

And neither does anyone else, but bitches will be just that.

She listens attentively to the Erinak’s spiel, nodding here and there when necessary. Her first bit makes utter sense to her, as it should, considering that Malka is her Erinak and not Lagertha or Rhy. The aging mare falls silent for a moment, but Scorch does not take up the thread of conversation just yet. There’s more to be said, plainly, and she needn’t distract Malka from her path of thought and subsequently, speech.

The mare frowns slightly at Malka’s bluntness concerning her opinions towards the caste leaders, but does not argue against the truth. When she passive aggressively assaults the Desert, Scorch smirks knowingly, though she’s nodding solemnly again when Malka mentions appointment via voting. She had considered this of course, and figured that if it came to it, she would allow such a situation to be procured. Despite her personal thoughts upon Rhy and Lagertha, she could not bring herself to decide between the two. She may prefer one over the other for amiable conversations, but the two were equally able of bearing the weight of the crown. In this matter, she would need the sisterhood’s voices to guide the fate of the Jungle.

Hypothetically, of course.

“Well, you know your shit, that’s for sure.” She rolls her shoulders, mirroring Malka’s movement. “Thanks,” She adds quickly, and with a tight smile. “The voting makes a shit ton of sense to me. With all the discord between me and Lagertha (and consequently some between me and Rhy), a vote would be the easiest, most just way to go about this. Right now though, I really don’t need to be worrying about this. But if anything were to happen to me… Well, you said it yourself. Rhy and Lagertha are the only options.” Her ears flicker, portraying her slight discomfort on the situation. “You would tell them that in such a situation, right?” She holds her breath for a moment before releasing it in a heavy sigh and a shake of her head.

“Besides that, the children are showing more initiative than plenty of the adults. Nayl especially. But we’ll see how that pans out.”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle