"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 change made it easier to love him, though she resented the notion entirely. The fact remained, however, the this new world - not new in the sense of geography but new in the sense of sickness and chaos - was one in which Scorch existed completely without Hestoni. When she had originally returned from the dead, the two had shared an other-worldly connection through her ability to speak with the deceased; as such, her fealty had never wavered. How could it, when she could reach out and find his presence at any time?
She still reached out for it, of course - but every time, she heard only the dull static of the afterlife answering her call. Hestoni yet lived, and this fact lent her solace; but in the same breath, it lent her guilt. Eleven children and quadruple as many years together... And for what? She hated to think it, but she did all the same. The change brought discontent and worry to all those who called Beqanna home, Scorch far from excluded.
When she looked upon him, however, the strange and unwelcome feelings surrounding Hestoni generally fade. Today was one of those days; when the presence of the magician eased her mind in regards to her infidelity, though not to the rest of the bullshit happening around them.
"Hi," she said sweetly and quietly as she approached him. No hesitation marked her movement as she walked right up to him and curved herself gently into his embrace, taking shelter in the sinewy muscles of his neck and allowing him to take on some of her weight as she leaned. Reserved as he was, Brennen offered a kind of physical comfort that Scorch direly needed in times like these; and she made sure to show her gratitude for his generosity in that matter in whatever ways she could.
"How are you, Bren?" It's not all she wanted to say, but it sufficed; with a deep breath, the ugly mare closed her eyes to the pain of the world, waiting to hear his answer before she allowed herself to formulate one of her own.
so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'cause oh that gave me such a fright
He comes to Nerine from Icicle Isle, and the tension of what was going on over there is clear in his stiff movements, the scowl that is lingering on his face even as he stares out at the frothing ocean, hooves sunk lightly into the gray sand. It’s familiar; everything from the whistle of the wind in the cliffs behind him to the seasonally cold salty air – he’d lived here, for a time, when he first lost the Tundra. The sisterhood had settled here and Brennen had tried to settle with them – but the wounds of losing the places he’d loved had been too fresh, too deep. He’d eventually filled those holes with Galilee and with Ischia, but something about this homecoming feels right. The time, now, is right for him to give himself to Nerine.
And to Scorch.
Brennen can feel her approaching, feel her essence against the web of magic he maintains, a constant subtle watch kept on his loved ones. He’ll need to expand it now, of course; as they merge Kingdoms, he’ll need to keep an eye on his new sisters and brothers as well as the old. He turns and squares his stance as she steps up against him, and he can’t help but hum in pleasure as he lowers his muzzle to whuffle gently against her skin; in his mind’s eye, he can see her dark mane here as it must have once been, though in all the years he’d known her, she’d always been like this. He never minded before (though on occasion when seriously annoyed, he’d been known to use her appearance to strike an easy pithy point in an argument), and it doesn’t bother him now. “Hello,” he responds so quietly only Scorch could hope to hear, with the slightest flicker of a smile.
He hums in consideration, dragging his thoughts away from their ancient past and into the future. “I’m glad to be here, with you. It feels right to bring our families together now to face this threat.” It’s comfortable, to know that in this context Scorch will know ‘ families’ to be more than just their immediate relatives, but also encompass entire Kingdoms and histories. “But I’m worried about the sickness, and about this so-called safe place in Icicle Isle,” he frowns again, and it’s surely audible in his voice. “Even if we don’t need the land, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with those people so close on our borders.” He’d been unimpressed with the other claimants.
“How are you?”
but I will hold as long as you like just promise me we'll be alright
He hummed at her approach, his most subtle and yet easily accessible sign of warmth and affection. The sound of it made Scorch's bones feel soft, as if something about his contendedness with her specifically could transcend the earthly woes that so tormented her these days. She had yet to show any symptoms of the contagion, but that didn't mean she wasn't infected; thoughts like these kept her up day and night, and having little Blue in this kingdom with them was unsettling, too. But she was a yearling now, and able to make decisions of her own; though she looked still to her parents for guidance, they no longer had a full authority over her.
Scorch wondered if Brennen could read her mind as she thought of their daughter. She wouldn't mind if he could; where once she may have been disquieted by the invasion, by now she had become accustomed to the level of intimacy she shared with the magician. His quiet presence rarely rubbed her the wrong way.
He responded quietly at first, continuing to hum as an answer formulated in his mind. The first thing he said was sweet, of course, and Scorch found herself smiling absently. It felt right. At least, it felt safe; and without her husband to turn to, a safe love was more than she could ask for. Scorch nodded into Brennen's neck, murmuring an agreement in terms of the threat they faced and how unison would only strengthen them. Family would always be Scorch's first priority, and in the light of her wavering dedication to the Sisterhood (for she could barely even trick herself into calling it that any more), that fact had only become more clear.
Brennen turned to politics, and Scorch made no comment. He knew how she felt about the idiocy going on up there; she had voiced as much at the kingdom meeting as well as during the council meeting, not holding back on her arsenal of scathing comments (directed mostly at her own son nonetheless). Icicle Isle was a freezing wasteland even worse than the Tundra had been, and Scorch resented the idea of ever leaving Nerine. The day she left would be the last day she considered herself a Sister... and she wasn't ready for that. Yet.
How are you?
She sighed. It wasn't any easy question to answer.
"I'm..." She straightened, scuffed her hoof in the silty earth. "I'm fed up and uncertain. Everything is changing and every day the Amazons seem farther and farther away... When I first returned under Hestia's rule, there was something almost tangible to ascribe to. Now, there's nothing. The name is empty. Our people are empty." Raising her eyes from where she had set them on a rock to their left, Scorch found Brennen's face and gave a smile that more resembled a wince than anything joyful. "And I'm starting to feel that I am, too."
Scorch
Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
@[Brennen] PMS and Scorch don't make happiness, clearly
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