"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
In the land before, she had been accustomed to the southernmost kingdom in Beqanna, opposite the Tundra, where shit got cold instead of hot. So when the mare came to realize that somehow, some fucking how, her new home was the northernmost kingdom in the new Beqanna, hoo-boy did she throw a fit. Not that it really mattered anyway; after the reckoning, Beqanna seemed to have mellowed out with its various climates. No more deserts, jungle, arctic tundra. Instead, it's just a weird and awful kerfuffle of all the in-between stuff, just less-defined valleys and dales. Seriously. She hated this shit.
But her shit it was, and therefore would have to be dealt with. Leaving her children with a kiss on the forehead and a threat to behave or else, Scorch departed early that morning from her stupid, stupid northernmost kingdom. As the sun began to rise and her legs kicked up underneath her, the mare almost smiled. It felt good to stretch her legs over such a stretch of distance.
Eventually, however, her hairless back began to smart under the rays of the relentless autumn sun - a last fuck you from the weather before hell froze over. Pulling at some shadows, the mare cloaked her shoulders, protecting her skin; because the light and dark were not mixing today, her powers were not extraordinary. The magic did not look appealing or impressive, but it did the job: her skin would be saved for one more day.
Through Hyaline's mountain range and then across the Loessian fields; kingdoms Scorch had yet to meet, but which were not on today's to do list. No, it was at the Sylvan border that her muscled legs halted. The red-and-yellow leaves were fitting for the season, though she knew not that they maintained their colour year round. Still, the shadow-cloaked mare admired the beauty of it for a minute, bracing herself for the whole not-being-a-prick thing she was about to pull out of her ass.
Sighing heavily, the mare brushed the shadows away from her face, but kept an almost invisible layer over top her spine. Then, raising her hammer head, the mutilated rat called for an audience - Sabra, diplomat, wolf. Whoever may come.
She doesnt wish to be in the forest today. Her heart calls for the field and the homless habitants it sheltered. She longs for the interaction of someone who needed her just as much as they needed her home. Though the woman's plans are dashed when she hears the mare's call echo through the silent woods.
Immediaetly she had been intriguied, it had been deathly quiet since the arrival of the wolves. Had the call been from Sabra? No. Lavendel would have recognized that voice anywhere. This call was new, strange. It screamed for her or anyone to greet it, and so she went in search of its owner.
When she comes across the mutilated female Lamb is almost shocked, but she refuses to give this away. A smile graces her pale lips and she comes to a stop not far from where the pale woman stood beneath the autumnal canopy. "Welcome to Sylva, you are?" She smelt of the ocean and Lamb could only assume she came from one of the sea bordering kingdoms. However, that didn't narrow it down very much. "I am Lavendel and I assume you seek something." They all did. Whether it be a shelter or one of the courts it was something. So she waits for the mare to possibly offer up a name or what she has arrived for, her pale eyes wide in wait.
A pretty little mare is the one to approach after Scorch's demanding call. There's a smile on her soft lips, though the mare is sure that it disguises at least a little surprise - she is self-aware enough to know that she's ugly as ass and creepier still, y'know. But her looks aren't why she's here today, and so she returns the mare's smile. The expression is much harder and mature in comparison, but it's there nonetheless.
"My name is Scorch, Advisor to Hestia, Nerine's Queen." She's always been prone to the titles, to the awe and respect they demand - and furthermore, she has always earned her titles, so she will damn well use them. At any rate, today of all days it is important that she relay her status. She is on a solo diplomatic mission, and so must hold her own in the face of strangers. The titles help.
"I do seek something Lavendel - your queen, Sabra, as I have heard her be called. Nerine is looking to advance its political relationships, and that is why I am here today." Scorch turns her molten red-yellow gaze from where it had been idly studying the Sylvan forest to rest heavily on the meek woman. "Are you in a position to establish such changes, or should we advance and seek out Sabra?"
There was an air of waiting across Beqanna lately. It was almost like the feeling the air got as a storm brewed. That weight that had to break sooner or later, and the kingdoms were all shoring themselves up in preparation for it. Diplomatic meetings were increasingly frequent. Rulers were becoming more interested in defining who their friends were, cementing alliances however they could. This seemed to be one such venture. She had come upon them, Lamb ever faithful in her task. An expression of mild revulsion crossed her face, which she quickly schooled into her "mask of placidity" that she had adopted for political meetings. Really though, this creature that Lamb had been speaking to was rather horrible to look at. Like she had narrowly escaped death by volcano some years ago. She stepped from the shadows and smiled faintly at Lamb.
"I can take it from here, Lamb dear. You may carry on with your day. Perhaps..." She paused thoughtfully, "Perhaps you might consider traveling for me a bit? We can discuss it more a bit later on, but I think you've done quite well within the kingdom's bounds. I think you'll do just as well for us in the field." She suggested this all quietly to the charming young girl. She had never once been given reason to regret taking the girl on, and was in fact very pleased with her company and assistance within the kingdom.
Her tail flicked softly against her flank as she considered the naked woman before them. Sabra was beautiful, by general opinion. She had been lovely in the tones of cream and white she'd been born with, and she was other worldly in her current tints that shifted and refracted in different lights. This woman was otherworldly as well, though in quite a different way. She could feel herself becoming stuck on the ambassador's appearance, and so shook out her mane lightly to clear her head. It didn't matter what the woman looked like, it mattered what she had to say. A gentle cough to clear her throat, and she felt ready to address the emissary. "Unless I am rather mistaken, you wanted to see me?" She asked in her crystal tones. Her blue eyes sought out the molten embers that glowed in the other woman's face. This strange creature had seen much of the world with those eyes.
Little time passed after Scorch's clipped words before the called upon regent approached. An unhidden expression of disgust crossed the admittedly beautiful mare's face at the sight of Scorch's mutilation, but she let it pass. This was the body she had known and occupied for nigh on a hundred years; she had seen every face one could pull at the sight of her, and had at one time, fought against every one who dared to look at her so. But now, she accepted the revulsion; she was ugly, after all.
Her bite was uglier, though.
Listening carefully to the words exchanged between monarch and subject (listening for any news that might be portrayed between the lines - go to the field, we are weak and without members - you are doing well, we are dependent on you - all inferences that could be wrong, that could be nothing, but that Scorch stores away nonetheless), Scorch waited patiently for her turn to speak, and nodded when it came.
"You are far from mistaken, Queen Sabra." She paused. "I am Scorch, Advisor to Khaleesi Hestia in Nerine." It was a lengthy title, but damned if she wouldn't use it in the one situation where she could. The rat-mare held the queen's crystal blue gaze firmly, feeling the energy between them as almost tangible. Though physically the opposite of Scorch, the two seemed temperamentally matched...
"I come in hopes of securing an alliance with Sylva."
The shimmering mare nodded, accepting the information offered. She had yet to meet Queen Hestia, and hadn't heard much about her either. Nerine, however, would be a useful friend to have. She held her tongue a moment longer, considering the proposition, as well as it's giver.
"What benefit does the Khaleesi seek to reap from my acquiescence? We are rather distant kingdoms, and everything comes with a price. What is hers?" She inquired with her little head tilt. It was apparent that this Scorch was authorized to make such negotiations on her kingdom's behalf. Clearly, she knew how to handle herself in such situations.
This was no exuberant child sent on a hopeful mission, experimenting with the world beyond their home. No, Scorch had a mind like a labyrinth, and the queen of Sylva would need to keep her wits about her.
It was true, Nerine would be a useful ally to have, especially considering that the Beqanna-wide peace could not last much longer; the schemers were scheming, she could feel it; and that Hestia chose to extend an olive branch to a kingdom such a Sylva (quiet, though that would change if she could tell anything by the gleam in Sabra's eyes) was a gift, one that ought to be greedily unwrapped and cherished. Nerine was strong, and growing stronger.
"Distant, yes, but that means little to us." Scorch held Sabra's gaze evenly. "Our price is fair. In Nerine, we have the fighting pen: this is where anyone can place themselves, so as to make themselves available to friendly steals and challenges at any time, by anyone, including those within Nerine and without. This encourages activity between kingdoms, which we both know is needed at this rather silent time."
"In addition, should there be any... Conflict, Nerine would send it's warriors to back Sylva. And we would expect the same courtesy in return if our borders were threatened. Lastly, should a Sylvan ever need refuge for whatever reason, Nerine will be their safe hold."
The mare paused again, allowing the weight of her words to sink in before continuing to her final line. "So, Queen Sabra. What say you: alliance?"
Scorch
Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
@[Sabra] if you need any clarifications on the terms of the alliance (if you accept!) PM tiny!
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