DESOLATION COMES UPON THE SKY - any

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

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

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth His arrival is heralded by a teeth-shattering gust of icy wind. Such a thing has no place in the humid Jungle, and though it is just that, a gust of wind, the black stallion appears beside Scorch precisely as the wind dies away. “What,” he begins, his words clipped and brusque, “did you tell your Amazons about the Tundra?” He is here (perhaps art the same time, perhaps a little earlier, or a little later) with the memory of Lagertha’s words in his ears and Simeon’s in his head. He still has no intentions to meddle with the time and consequences that have already played out; Errant is not so foolish as to think himself that great a magician. This conversation will hav little effect on the one he still needs to finish; Errant only wants to be sure that he has all of the facts. Despite his typically cool demeanor, Errant has carried on their paternal, chilly legacy of hiding far more below the surface than he presents to the outside world. Errant knows the most basics of her plan, and while he could easily find out the rest of the details, he doesn’t. It is mostly because he doesn’t care what happens to the rest of Beqanna as long as his kingdom and his loved ones are safe. Scorch could set the place on fire and Errant would watch; he has no grandiose morals beyond loyalty and justice. She had suggested murdering the king, which Errant has no intention of doing. The black stallion has not yet looked too closely at the tattoo on Simeon’s chest nor had time to ponder exactly what the new member’s sworn loyalty to the Jungle truly means. He will, in time. He had agreed to consider Scorch’s plan after all, not sworn a blood oath to support all of her actions. He is her brother, and while that means more to the black horse than most any other bond, she is only a sister and her personal interests be will always come behind those of the Tundra. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Pharaon]

“All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope” -Alexandre Dumas The silver moon illuminates many things in the underbrush of the Jungle, but shadows still lurk among every turn. The darkness hides, creeping into the corners of the ferns and vines, sheltering the creatures from the light. Perhaps Pharaon has now grown used to the eerie, almost sinister darkness that surrounds her here. This place still feels like home, even in the shadows. And though her glowing flame-lace patterns warm the darkness, her night vision is noticeably decreased by the faint light. Is isn't until she is nearly upon the pair, that she sees them. Her familiar Scorch -her friend, leader, and fearless Khaleesi. The grey mare knew her well. But this other - the smell of testosterone hung close to him, a descriptive trait Pharaon was quickly beginning to learn and understand from her time in the Amazons. She did not know him, though most obviously he was from the Tundra - seemingly with news to share. She hesitates for a brief moment, hoof pausing mid-air considering whether or not she was welcome here. Though the mare was unsure if she had walked into a private conversation, she greets the two softly. "Khaleesi..." A simple nod is offered to the stallion. Her eyes meet his briefly, but in her uncertainly their amber gaze turns to the earth. The young mare is not yet the picture of confidence, and something about this male brings out some level of fear inside of her. But the Amazonian sisters are not supposed to appear weak, or shy, or frightened. They are strong - warriors of the Jungle. So quickly, she gathers herself to address him- wanting only to ease the tension and uphold Scorch's trust and approval. "How does the Tundra fair, sir?"

ooc: hope you don't mind her barging in.

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The gust of wind chills Scorch more than it rightly should. The sweat on her bare skin cools, a dreadful feeling. When the gust flies to further lands, Scorch frowns. No one has answered her, and yet she could have sworn --

-- Ah, here is Errant now. The frown deepens on the aged woman’s face, for his untimely arrival must bring only queer or bad news. At his words, and the tone thereof, Scorch’s anxieties return. A knot of tension builds between her ribs and below her throat, making it seem as though she cannot breathe.

Like brother, like sister, like family. She hides far more below the surface than she presents to the world – though with Errant’s magic, she supposes she can hide nothing. So she does not attempt to. Her mouth opens to reply just as Pharaon creeps through the foliage,  meek and eager and striving all at once. Hesitation flickers momentarily betwixt the volcanic activity of Scorch’s dragon eyes; but it passes. Her sisters know everything, she shall not fear.

”Pharaon, Errant. Errant, Pharaon.” Her voice is low and throaty when she introduces the two. She seeks to bring no more attention to their night’s conversation. Before allowing Errant to answer her Astoki/Kosi’s question, Scorch answers his. ”I’ve called for a vote. Not all have answered, but as of yet, we lay in complete unison to ally with the Tundra when/if you become king, and the majority wish to send Simeon to rule with you. That, however, is your call. I would understand if chose differently from our arrangement.” She pauses, smirks. ”You are the keeper of the Tundra, and I of the Jungle. I will understand if such things come.”

Curiosity overwhelms her calm, newly-awakened features. ”But do tell, brother, what brings you here on the wings of the wind in the depth of the silver night.”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth He sees motion and turns his attention to the shadows where another Amazon lurks, His gaze is unnaturally cold (she might feel it running down her spine like an icy finger) but without cruelty, and he soon loses interest. “It’s fine,” he replies brusquely, and turns his attention back to his younger sister. On most any other occasiona, he’d be more polite to the grey mare, but he is irritable and in a fine mood, and does not care to be bothered with the niceties of diplomacy. He’s only a Knight of the Tundra, after all; he is not of great importance. Scorch introduces them quietly and Errant does his best to refrain from rolling his eyes. He is not entirely successful. There is a low hum and then silence around the three of them. The little insects within the sealed circle he has created around them still chirp, but the nighttime noises of the jungle have been sealed out to keep their conversation private. Errant does not care that Pharaon is now involved; he assumes that Scorch keeps no secrets from her sisters and only wants to keep potential enemies from overhearing. He looks back at Scorch with a look that all older brothers have given, a happy now? with a bit of annoyance He had grown suspicious after Lagertha’s arrival and Simeon’s interruption, but he is not ready to turn his back on his younger sister. He dislikes that their alliance appears to hinge on wearing the crown himself, but he supposes that he had left Scorch believe that he intended to retake the Tundra. “Simeon will receive the rank he deserves,” Errant replies, ignoring (as he usually does) any part of the conversation that he doesn’t feel like replying to. “In the meantime, have Lagertha return Nihlus to the Tundra, or we will ensure that the entirety of Beqanna knows that your women steal children. The Brotherhood will not tolerate it.” With that, he gives Pharaon one final nod of acknowledgement before disappearing. The cold goes with him, as does the brief shield. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Pharaon]

“All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope” -Alexandre Dumas Close family ties was not something Pharaon knew outside of her mother and father. Her mother, Nalini, was her mentor, her strength, her rock when she was young. Oceanus, her father, was her playmate - but he has since traveled to the Beach.. much to her dismay. Pharaon has siblings, though they only spent time together in their childhood. Veendam and Baltimore she knew once. But Numair and Annapolis were strangers to her, as well as her father's other children (of which there were many, but most notably - Mast). So though she sees the faith her Khaleesi puts into her family members, she does not quite understand that level of bond that blood can bring. Errant responds, though curtly. And the little grey purposefully chooses to ignore the deliberate rolling of his eyes. Pharaon listens quietly - she knows of the Tundra plans from their kingdom meeting, but was unaware of Lagertha's stealing of Nihlus, whom she assumes is a Tundra price of some sort. But just as soon as the conversation begins, Errant vanishes with a cold burst of wind. Her dappled coat quivers in the chill. Her amber eyes move to her queen, glistening with concern. While Pharaon does believe the Tundra would be a good alliance for the Jungle, Errant is abrupt and rough - something Pharaon is not well accustomed to. While she does not intend to challenge her Khaleesi's choices in allies, she fears Errant. Perhaps it is his power, or his personality... "Khaleesi - I understand Errant is your brother.. but do you trust him completely? Her voice is soft and low in an attempt to avoid an air of accusation. If Scorch trusts him, she must too

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Scorch quirks a brow at Errant’s obnoxious eye roll. ”Things must be worse than I can imagine, big brother,” She quips in a gravelly voice. While she understands what stress he must be going through, it is quite an ordeal to be the sibling with more composure. Besides the fact that the two grew up as knowing each other as only have siblings, Scorch has always considered Errant to be the ‘less fun’ or alternatively, ‘more mature and boring’ one. Apparently, she was wrong.

Scorch gives a nod when Errant seals them in, though it also seals in his sour mood. The fire-sister feels like chuckling, but knows now is not the time, despite her little joke. Instead of commenting on his graceful manners and how gentlemanly he has become in his old age, Scorch concentrates on his words. Irritated nerves replace her mirthful ones, and suddenly the night seems far darker. Lagertha has been stealing children. Not only that, she’s been stealing Scorch’s children’s children.

Instead of replying, Scorch growls in her throat just as Errant disappears. The flames on her hairless skin dash to and fro as she weighs her options, though a conclusion is already dawning on her thoughts. Regardless of what Errant’s wishes may be, she’ll send Nihlus back. She is not Echion – she will not have her family forsaken.

The Khaleesi glares into the air where Errant had stood moments ago, preparing herself to spend the night in the aura of her own anger when Pharaon draws her out of it. She’d nearly forgotten of the petite gray’s presence, though it is an honest mistake. Considering the news which they’d just learnt, Scorch has every right to be within herself.

But this is Pharaon we’re talking about – it would not go well should Scorch allow her temper to seep through her words. Pharaon, like many others occupying the Jungle in this era, is a gentle soul. Scorch attempts to placate her anger before replying, though her voice still holds brusque and irate tones.

”Of course I do. He’s not always like this.” Her broad shoulders roll, attempting to relieve the stiffness which has been there ever since her crowning. ”That is to say, he’s an honourable man regardless of how knotted his knickers are.” Violet eyes turn to meet Pharaon’s with her next phrase. ”I’ve known him for decades. He’s one of the best horses I’ve met, and one of the best kings, too.” The praise comes out spitefully, though genuinely. She’s never been good at giving compliments, I'll have you know.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle