"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
The moon shines silver, creating odd patterns through the canopy. Scorch should be sleeping, but she is not. She’s watching the oddities of the night, studying the creatures who prefer the silver of the moon to the gold of the sun. The task is pleasantly distracting; instead of worrying over her sisters or the plans she has made or how the raising of her daughter is going, Scorch can just watch. No knot of anxiety resides between her ribs, near her heart. No stabbing pain greets her when her eyes open from sleep.
In the blackness of her Jungle, she is no Khaleesi. For now, she simply exists. While things are yet quiet in the world of Beqanna, Scorch takes these moments as solace. Her body relaxes as her dragon eyes watch the nocturnal primates leap from tree to tree in high-definition. Her hardness softens as the ants scuttle beneath her, never daring to touch her. While the eagle-owls swoop through the trees, Scorch’s head swoops up and down, fighting away the sleep while equally embracing it.
When the moon passes overhead, Scorch allows herself to drift into slumber. Her legs lock, her all three of her eyelids close, and the Khaleesi sleeps. It is fitful, full of nightmares built up on the anxieties no one knows she has. There is always fire, always Echion dying in a dream in her dream and in real life too; there is always Hestoni a slave and her children fighting. When another creature approaches, Scorch flinches into wakefulness. Sweat coats her hairless body, causing her to glisten in the dappled silver light. A shudder runs through her, an attempt to shake off the foreboding feeling of her night’s terrors.
"Hello? Who’s there?" Thank you for waking me.
Scorch
Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
It's a recycled post but it's something to work with and I have to run! Sorreh!
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
The nightmare had heard of a land of warrior women within the realm she had found herself in, and now she chose to seek it out. The Valley was a glorious place to live, true, but aside from herself and Librette there were none she felt she could mesh with. Large hooves drag her frame through the night, the shadows clinging to her every curve as she slips through them. Feathered limbs move with an almost eerie grace that nothing so large should possess, her scarred hide completely hidden from the world by the night's darkness.
Moving through the herdless places she came upon the edge of a most spectacular jungle, thick with the scents of females and only a small number of males. A wry smile quirks her dark lips as she continues onward into this place, eyes peering into the surrounding darkness from beneath the tangled mass of her forelock. In the undergrowth she finds the form of a sleeping mare, though she was unlike any mare that Alptraum had ever seen. She lacked the hair coat of most equines though she was spectacularly marked with the flames of a bright fire. The nightmare stood a silent guard over the other mare, her body blending into the surrounding darkness as she saw the sheen of sweat appear upon the other. Perhaps she wasn't resting and was instead in the throes of birth? Nostrils flared wide as she inhaled, but she didn't smell the blood and pain that came with birth. The other mare came to her feet, and spoke, her voice a suitably fitting alto for her impressive looks. Stepping forth from the shadows, the nightmare answered in her own darkly tinted alto.
Greetings. I am Alptraum, though I have been called a nightmare and much worse. I came to see the land of the warrior women, though I make my home in the Valley currently. May I ask who you are?
She could be civil when given a reason, and something about this other woman demanded respect. Lowering her head in a graceful nod, she waited for the other to reply, tangled tail lashing against her scarred hide.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
No, the throes of birth do not come to Scorch just yet. This being said, her abdomen is hugely swollen to the point that twins evidently lay within her. Despite her large size – sixteen hands and as muscled as a bull – and Hestoni’s – an eighteen hand titan – there can be no mistaking the meaning of her great girth. She is having twins. Again.
She should be miserable, and in a sense, she is. Her pregnancy has caused these night terrors, and the day terrors. Yet despite these things, Scorch retains something of a kind attitude, which of course is the opposite of her usual demeanour. As she lunges to her bladed hooves, suddenly alert for activity around her, anger does not bubble up inside her but instead gratitude. Everything is backwards – but backwards is not always wrong.
Her nostrils widen as the looming Percheron steps from the shadows. She is evidently not a sister; her breast is bare, and her smell foreign. She offers plenty of information though, leading Scorch to believe that the likelihood of her being a spy is minimal. Heart thumping from her dreams, Scorch sighs her weight on to one leg, listening attentively, if not wearily.
”I am the Khaleesi of this Jungle. I’m called Scorch, though I have been called a hairless rat, and much worse.” Her words mimic Alptraum’s, for forming her own intelligent words seems quite the challenge in the aftermath of her restless dreams. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to be hospitable. “Why have you come, Alptraum?” She asks, bladed teeth clicking together almost irritably, but not quite. ”The likes of the Valley don’t usually enjoy the land of the warrior women.”
04-30-2015, 10:41 PM (This post was last modified: 04-30-2015, 10:44 PM by Alptraum.)
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
A wry smile twisted the nightmare's lips, there was nothing about this mare that screamed naked rat. Dangerous, a predator maybe, but most definitely not rat. Her lack of hair was a little odd to be truthful, but the sharp teeth she could hear clicking in the other's mouth made her take notice. Dipping her head in a greeting to the Khaleesi, dark eyes took in the other's straining girth. She was indeed with child, but that was a matter for later. She spoke again, her voice a hushed rumble in the stillness of the jungle vegetation.
I only went to the Valley because I did not know of the land of women until I had already chosen to go to the other realm. I am not a great one for men, they have their uses but I don't care overly much for them. I cared for one long ago and it only ended badly, even warriors can not fight off the demons of disease.
It had been a long time since she'd spoken of her Morgenstern, the stallion who had claimed her totatlly. He had been the only one to ever do so, and was probably going to remain the only one. She had no use for foolish men, they only angered her. Taking a step forward so the weak light filtered down onto her scarred hide, she stopped and looked at Scorch once more before speaking.
If I had known there was a land of warrior women I would never have gone to the Valley. Librette is the only reason I am there, that and a stallion called Warship introduced himself then ran away. I am many things, but a peaceful ninny of a typical herd mare I am not. A warrior, a fighter, those things I am and will always be. If motherhood couldn't turn me into one of those blithering simpletons, nothing ever will.
She lapses into silence then, not knowing what had caused her to speak so much. Usually the nightmare was mostly silent, perhaps it was being in this place of kindred spirits that brought out the words from her mind, or perhaps she had finally found someone who would not judge her just by the intimidation her size could bring.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
05-05-2015, 11:25 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2015, 11:26 AM by Scorch.)
The nightmare steps forward into the sharp silver light of the moon. With eyes made of molten colours, Scorch appraises the scars upon the titan mare's black skin. Seeing such things reminds her of their need for true warrior women. At the moment, they only had Lagertha and herself, for which Scorch is grateful. She may not have the best of friendships with the gray mare, but in truth, she would probably die knowing that she is the only one who fancies battling over cool, pointless words.
She already knows that Alptraum agrees.
"Fuck the Valley. If you prefer this land, choose it." She speaks bluntly, suddenly straightening her weight. Honesty has always been the best policy; queenhood has taught her that. "If you wish to practice the sword, your training will be most profitable here, not elsewhere."
A grin stretches across bladed teeth as she steps forward into the light, revealing her own hairless skin, littered with scars. Everywhere they can be found, from burns to cuts to torn muscles, reformed. She is the epitome of a warrior, a soldier for thirty years now. Nothing anyone says can rebuke the strength of her appearance, the ferocity of her loyalty and battle. But she shouldn't gloat.
"Motherhood has not softened me, either. Seven children belong to me and my consort." She allows that to sink in before continuing, eyes glinting intensely. "Our general is also iron, despite her son. Lagertha will like you. Like you plenty, I must admit." A bladed hoof is raised from the earth before striking down once more, passion writhing in the form of the tattoos on her skin. "Alptraum, there's no wrong in changing your mind. But there is wrong in not following your instinct."
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
She watches the queen as she steps into the silvery light of the moon, the flame tattoos that cover her body infinitesimally glowing with the movement of real fire. Dark eyes take in the bladed hooves and the muscular scarred body of Scorch, ears flicking forth to draw in the words of the flame woman. She snorts in appreciation of the other's scar riddled hide, warrior woman delighting in the power of another warrior.
If she had brows she would have arched one at the mention of seven children, most mares get fat and lazy after having so many young, but that didn't appear to be the case for Scorch. The blunt words of the other woman were to be respected, and it was sound advice. If there had been a recruiter for the Amazons that had approached her the day she was in the Field she would never have went to the Valley. She liked Librette and enjoyed her company but after Morgenstern she would never be a herdmare again. Dipping her head at the end of the flame queen's words, she replies in her deep alto.
I think that the Valley has nothing for me other than Librette and her children, I was never happy being a herdmare. But mock battling and training with fellow warrior women, that is something that could make me at least content if not happy. I would enjoy meeting this Lagertha you speak of, perhaps she and I will enjoy each other's company.
Extending her scarred nose towards Scorch, she blows a breath towards the dragon mare, dark eyes focused on her. Moving a step closer, she drops her head lower and bends a knee to her new sovereign. She will be part of the Valley no more, she belongs here, in the Jungle with it's sisterhood of warriors. Rising she twists her lips in another of her wry smirks before voicing her choice.
I do believe I belong here, and here I shall remain if you will have me. I can help to teach the younger sisters the art of war, and the deadly dance that involves using your entire body as your greatest weapon. And of course, how to deal with the males who would come parading themselves in here thinking to lord it over us poor defenseless women. I would take great pleasure in demonstrating the dance of battle on a man of that ilk.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
Alptraum’s immediate reaction to Scorch’s announcement of her horde of progeny is rather comical. True, most horses would assume Scorch to be the last mare on earth to birth even one child. That being said, no one thought Echion would have as many kids as she did, either. Even if Echion’s kids were for politics, and Scorch’s for love. Alas, daughter must differ if only slightly from mother; this is the way of the world.
“Believe me, Lagertha’s going to adore you. She’ll take one look and swoon… Warrior-woman wise, if you know what I mean.” A gruff chuckle comes haltingly from her anciently charred lips, lips which peel back over the bladed teeth beneath in a gruesome sort of grin. “And the only chance of you being a broodmare is if you happen to fall in love. Believe me.” The quip is rather dry, because hell, life without children would have been amazing. But life without Hestoni? Unimaginable.
Alptraum steps forward, joining Scorch in the iridescent light of the moon. When the nightmare’s scarred nose nears her own, Scorch accepts the touch without speaking, exchanging breath with the impressive mare. When she kneels, however, Scorch’s eyes widen slightly. The only time an act like this has ever been given was in fact given by herself, to Brunhild, the day she because a Bloodrider. Her chest swelled slightly at the memory, and at the pleasure of the meaningful gesture given to her by Alptraum.
“You will be made very useful here, Alptraum, more useful than any broodmare. And it’s comical, actually. We have had a male caller. He was rather… Upset by the reactions he was met with.” She chuckles. “Lagertha can tell you more about that incident, however. Seek her, and you will not be disappointed. In the meantime, I fear I must rest now or live forever in the form of a zombie.” A dip of her head. “I will soon be holding an initiation, should you be interested.”
“Good-night, Alptraum. And welcome, to the Jungle.”
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