"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
07-17-2015, 09:16 PM (This post was last modified: 07-22-2015, 05:46 PM by Tantalize.)
infinity overhead
and i whisper, are you listening?
liquid concrete under our feet
You’ll regret this. Sticking to the meadow was harder than it had been in the past. She had once liked being a wanderer with no loyalty to any person, place, or thing. Only loyal to herself, doing as she pleased and upsetting nobody in the process. It had been easier to remove herself into the sea of flesh and faces that made up the meadow when nobody had known her name. Then the Amazons had changed all that, as it had also changed her, and she didn’t feel the same in that empty sea. The jungle tugged at the back of her mind, forcing her to think about it as much as she tried to ignore it and forget. What’s left for you there jaguar child? You started a war, lost your control, and then simply disappeared and let other’s clean up the mess. Continuing to fight a war that was never theirs to fight. It always should have been between just her and Lion. He had been the one to take advantage of her, find that one small weakness and overtaken her body. He was to blame when it came to her losing face to her people. There had been only two choices that she could see at the time. Ignore it and look weak or stand up and fight. She chose the latter. It hadn’t been all bad. It had inspired the jungle sisters when there had been a lack of camaraderie and a purpose to thrive. It had also been the start of the Queens turning into Khaleesi’s, a small legacy that continued to this day without her knowledge but would surely bring a flicker of a smile to her lips. The original Khaleesi can’t resist. She has to see what has happened to the humid land she once called home. The paths unfold at her hooves as if she’s been traveling them consistently for the past one hundred years. Sweat, snakeskin, wild blooms. It envelops her and she accepts the embrace gladly. Here she moves easy where others would become tangled and constricted. The only place she doesn’t stand out, uncomfortable. Jaguar spots ripple in the golden afternoon that peeps between green leaves, adding to her already dappled appearance. And for the first time, the tiniest pang of regret. Brushed off a moment later, there’s no point in that. Now she walks down memory lane and she can’t keep those memories deep down in that dark box anymore. The chain slips off and the lid bursts open. The thicket where she gave birth to her daughters, one wanted and one unwanted. Here is where she had once stood and and instructed her sisters. There was the spot she had defended her home, kingdom, and people. It was overwhelming. Without realizing it she had come to a standstill, golden eyes probing the murkiness as her past swept in a whirlwind around her, seeing ghosts everywhere. I told you, you’ll regret this.
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
Whether it’s fate or simply chance, but it seems the former Queen has reappeared when there is again, a sense that the cohesion amongst them has dissipated. Eager eyes and ears crawl out of the green darkness every now and then, but so quickly find themselves back there, turning to recluses and forgetting their sisters. Even Scorch was gone for awhile. She was gone when they lost their tattoos. Lagertha scoffs quietly at the thought, adding it to the list of wrong she mentally tallied up against the now-literally-naked-rat. She would never speak them aloud, of course. But they were there, tucked away into the back of her mind.
Her dam was the original warrior queen.
One day she would be one as well.
The only one better suited for succession to the throne was Rhy, and she didn’t ever seem to want the crown.
So that left Lagertha. Lagertha Kingstealer. Lagertha and her ambitions.
The horned, gray General follows a seldom used trail, her broad chest and powerful legs overpowering vines and creepy tangly bits that threatened to bury the path forever. She is not on patrol, but is nevertheless alert, and when she breaks into the central clearing, her eyes are almost immediately drawn to a mare she doesn’t know. A mare who does not seem ill at ease in the heavy heat, and does not have the tell-tale mess of underbrush about her - the sign of a visitor who does not know the way. Without the tattoos they must recognize each other by sight or smell, and neither click while she approaches the stranger. She could be friend, or a very well informed foe.
Lagertha will usually demand that a stranger get out, or quickly state their business, but this time is different. She is still challenging and brusque, but this time she is not nearly so aggressive. “I do not know you, and I know all the sisters. Identify yourself, please.” She fixes the mare with a neutral, hard-as-steel gaze. Best tell the truth, now. Lagertha doesn’t play games.
07-19-2015, 10:04 PM (This post was last modified: 07-20-2015, 09:56 PM by Tantalize.)
tantalize
infinity overhead
and i whisper, are you listening?
Back in her day, there had rarely been an Amazon with tattoos. The markings had never been relied on to recognize a fellow sister and so she is not taken aback by this mare’s lack of them. Nor is she offended by the cautiousness of the stranger’s greeting and straightforward tone. Business is business. How many times had she done the same thing when the jungle had once beens hers? A moment is taken… It must be taken for she must shake off these ghosts that mock her. Shaking her head clear of the wisps of the past that spiral down her ears and cling to her mind.
Liz would have known this was an Amazon a mile away, even without her decorative tattoos. Her movements, the underlying strength in her voice and gestures, her voice. Amazon. This one was far from weak and the jungle doesn’t tolerate weakness. A whisper of a smile finds her lips before she speaks, not full of the bite and ferocity she had once been renowned for. In due time, once the dust had been shaken off of this creature who had been sitting on the shelf for far too long. ”I mean you nor your sisters any harm.”
Her dark body takes a step forward, bringing herself into the other’s view for a proper look. Dappled jaguar spots glistening as the sweat clings to her hide. ”I’m Tantalize.” She pauses as her piercing amber gaze makes eye contact with the Amazon before her. ”This is my home.” It’s the first time since she’s come back that she’s felt certain of anything and it shows. The old ways of the former Khaleesi stirring briefly with this absolute statement, her words tinged with a quiet fierceness.
Oh, what she would give to meet the Khaleesis who once walked this very same jungle. Self-procured images of the brazen and the timid, the spies and the warriors are endlessly within her mind. While some faces appear now and again – Prague – others are lost to the darkness forever. Echion, Kagerou, Quark. Their names and others she will never learn weigh heavily upon her, for despite the fact that she has reached the same level as they, a thirst dwells yet within her to meet her predecessors.
The alarms are not sounded when she enters, for the creatures welcome the sisters with an honorary silence. Thus, Scorch is unaware of a legend amongst them. She’s threading the jungle alongside the jaguar-mare, though each in their own fashions. Unlike her Jakka, the Khaleesi travels a worn trail, though only to accommodate her newfound girth. While being hairless in equine form earned her many a judgmental, uncomfortable glance, in this form, it felt natural.
No one dares judge a rhinoceros, after all.
Funny, though, that in this form, she’s a cow. Not much better than a rat, though far more dangerous. Even so, she’s about as hideous as she is regularly. Large, wrinkly, and grey, Scorch has fallen in love with her gift from the Spirit. She had hoped – prayed? – for something along the lines of fire, as she always had, but this nearly trumps her namesake. While she has few of her kind in the Jungle, a small crash of Javan rhinoceroses have bonded well with her. The only distinguishing features between the natural born rhinos and the shifter are Scorch’s magic eyes; pupilless, and constantly shifting colours. Of course, none are quite like she in the way of speech, yet she has found herself heavily intrigued by them and their own private language.
Today however, she leaves the crash to themselves by a water basin upon the lowlands of the Jungle. She has not quite mastered this whole walking thing; her legs are like tree trunks, as is her girth. A true Amazon may race articulately through the underbrush, but she supposes she deserves an asterisks next to that statement now. She trips often, bumps into objects which evade her notice, and snags her horn in a plethora of hanging things. Despite having never been the face of elegance, all this trouble tends to piss Scorch off quite nicely. After a couple hours of bowling through the land, she closes her eyes and imagines herself as a horse.
And, slowly but surely, she returns to her natural born self. Hairless, ugly, and esteemed.
She begins trotting aimlessly once the transformation ends, breathing easy now that her footfalls were certain, not rickety. The path splits before her, and though she moves to take the left, Scorch’s ears twitch at the sound of voices. A lid flicks over her eyes, and she looks to her right, into the clearing. Two horses stand there, one clearly Lagertha with her cool blue horns and fiery hot body. The other Scorch cannot distinguish through heat-vision alone; snorting softly, the Khaleesi swivels to investigate.
“Tantalize?” She asks firmly, coming into the clearing with forward-facing ears. She had not picked up on the rest of the conversation, but the twinkle in her lime-green eyes admits that that one word – name – is enough to invite curiosity within her. Glancing to Lagertha, Scorch offers a firm nod, agog shining in her eyes. Halting a few paces away from each mare, Scorch returns her hard gaze to the jaguar-woman. “You ruled before my mother, Echion.” Well, fake mother. But let’s not get into the details. “I am Khaleesi Scorch.” A grin slips across her charred lips, the expression steely but interested. “Well met, sister.”
From the undergrowth, someone speaks her name. It’s somewhat startling, it’s been so long since someone had called to her as if they knew her. She visibly flinches and feels foolish when she sees the hairless mare coming their way. Her muscles remain taunt beneath her dappled jaguar coat, unable to let down her guard and relax completely even though these were Amazons, her people, before her. The newcomer was.. Ugly. She looked to be an unfortunate burn victim, as if she had been tied to a stake and lit on fire. Liz had enough past experience with delicate situations and manners to keep her eyes locked on the bright green gaze of Scorch. She wasn't one to be rude unless it was called for, so her facial features remain unreadable. Until Eichon is mentioned.
How could she forget the dark winged mare? Her fellow jungle sister… They had both been the chosen Amazonian Alliance contenders. And while both had been beaten by Tundra men (which brings back even more memories… whatever happened to Landen?) it had bonded them unintentionally. She remembers these days well, before she had become Khalessi. When it comes to the days after she rose to power, things become foggy. She can’t remember the three she had counted on most back then although she knows without hesitation that there had been three. Had one been Eichon? Her gut feeling says yes even though she can’t truly recall much. If she really wanted to remember she probably could but the moment those memories rise to the surface so does Lion’s face and her heart begins to race.
”Eichon….” She murmurs, realizing she has been lost in thought for far too long. ”A worthy successor.” She offers another whisper of a smile to Scorch, not wanting to appear feeble or rude. ”I knew your mother well.”” So this one is Khalessi now? There must be more to her than meets the eye, this woman of skin and sinew. Unless the position was handed down to her from her mother, which wasn’t unlikely. Even then, the Jungle always let them know of it’s approval or disapproval in such major decisions. For this one to lead the jungle woman, she must be made of strong stuff. If she had been burned by fire, as it appears, and is still alive to talk about it… That answers the question right there.
She’s not stupid. She knows some will remember her as a good and fair Khalessi. Others will speak of her abuse of the jungle (though she definitely would not agree with them) for everything she did had been for the jungle. Even when she had been raped by the Dale King, she had used her own suffering to the jungles advantage. And had they not shown their power? Had the Amazons not been spoken on everyones lips, had they not become strong again from her own misfortune? It’s a hard pill to swallow, to have been someone who mattered one day and then a stranger the next. Coming back here, although not completely forgotten, was basically wiping the slate clean. Such things were necessary though if it meant returning to the only place she belonged. ”Thank you for the warm welcome Khalessi. It’s good to be home.” It feels so strange, rolling off her tongue and addressing someone else that instead of referring to herself. ”I’m glad to see that the Khaleesi tradition still stands.”
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
Scorch has only to look upon Lagertha’s face to see one of the oldest Queens. She is more well-kept than her dam, but they are of the same color, and almost the same personality. Lagertha is not so crazy (yet), and she does not often have twigs and burrs and matted knots in her mane and tail. She will never be pristine in the Jungle, and she could care less what she looks like - but she does like to feel like she is a good ambassador for her Kingdom and her position. If she were a human General, wearing makeup would be unexpected and unnecessary, Being neat and tidy, however, is expected. If she can’t take care of herself, how can she take care of others?
There is no one left to recognize the old face anyway, so what does it matter?
There was only Gail and her lover, and Gail died with a screeching, clanging sound. Her lover didn’t give a fuck.
The very distant past only matters to Lagertha, it seems. It was a far second to the very recent past, however, and she isn’t entirely pleased when Scorch comes to interrupt her conversation. Yes, the mare is new, and yes, she is the Queen, so Lagertha supposes it is her duty to meet all newcomers. But the naked mole rat neatly sidestepped the General and hijacked the whole situation. Lagertha throws her a dirty side look while the two are talking about Echion and has the very childish idea to poke her with her new horns.
We both know she won’t do that, but the image is enough make her stop seething. Also, a fat, naked horse is pretty darn ugly, so at least she’s beating Scorch in that regards. Not that they’ve ever been in competition for anything like that, and Lagertha would never be described as beautiful. She is fierce, intimidating, broad, and strong. Beautiful and Lagertha will never go hand-in-hand. But it was nice to see Tantalize flinch when Scorch came around. Ha! Without much to contribute to the conversation, Lagertha coolly interjects, “Well would you look at the time? I have recruits to train.” She gives each of them a curt nod and turns to walk away, but as she goes, she shouts back over her shoulder, “Welcome back, Tantalize. If you feel like joining the Army, just ask for Lagertha. Someone will point you my way.”
And with that, she leaves the two of them to reminisce and the past, while she focuses on the future.
Tantalize flinches visibly when called upon, to which Scorch quirks an imaginary brow. The woman has not been seen for decades, so she supposes that hearing her name outside of her own mind could be decidedly disconcerting. Holding the woman’s courageous gaze (most glance to the contracture scars, the raised skin, the tightness, the disfigurements), Scorch allows the ancient Khaleesi respond, curiosity peaked, and thus, respect given.
A grim upturning of her lips mirrors Tantalize’s as she compliments Echion’s memory. In this moment, Scorch remembers the electric excitement Rhy held towards the stories of Kagerou; she suddenly understands how it feels to suffocate on the lump in her throat, and feel both weighed down and lifted all at once. It shows, slightly, in her smile; the grief of more than two decades floats in her charred lips, but does not grasp her eyes. She has cried, and cried, and cried… Now, she resists.
“She spoke of you sometimes, though I did not retain much as a child.” Scorch’s scraggly tail snaps at her tautly muscled haunches. “But of her, only memories may now be spoken.” With the careful admittance of Echion’s passing, any lingering grief is wiped from her expression. She had had her closure – perhaps this stranger and legend before her had not.
“All our rankings are in the ancient language now,” Scorch says brusquely, voice rumbling from her broad, powerful chest. At this moment, Lagertha chooses to forgo the building of camaraderie betwixt khaleesis (present, past, and reborn). Stifling a sigh, Scorch gazes coolly towards Lagertha’s retreating buttocks. It is with a tightened jaw that she returns her focus to Liz. “I see you’ve met my Jakka, Lagertha. A fine warrior, that one.” And a helluva lot o’ other things, too.
“But what of you? Has the Jungle regained a warrior, a diplomat, or simply an old friend and sister?” At the very least, Scorch has the capability of being friendly.
She nods in understanding regarding her old friend. There is no grief reflected in her features, she has grieved for years for many of those she had left behind. Grief is an old friend, a constant companion that she has grown bored and annoyed with. Instead she finds pleasure in the fact that at least she had created and left something of worth behind when she had dipped out. Not completely useless after all were you Liz?
She can’t help but smirk softly as she watches Lagertha stalk off into the jungle depths. That lack of respect for authority, completely independent and taking charge of the situation…. It reminds her of someone. Nativity, that same spunk that she had greatly admired. Amber eyes coolly follow her departure long after she is gone, making a mental note to seek her out regardless of caste chit chat. ”I can see that.” She murmurs quietly in response to Scorch, returning her full attention to her now that they were alone. ”Are they all made like that now?”
A soft sigh escapes through parted lips, knowing this was a question she would not be able to avoid for long although she had hoped to bide more time. What was she to do for the jungle, why was she back? A long thoughtful pause before her golden iris’s lock into Scorch’s. ”I’ll be quite honest, I can’t quite remember what I was before I was Khaleesi.” A soft laugh, a rare sound that sounds rusty to her own ears. ”Perhaps I should try on both castes for size and see which fits better.” As a Khaleesi she had been a warrior and diplomat all rolled into one. She had fought in the Alliance, that she could remember, so perhaps she had been more fight then flight driven. It was in her blood after all. On the other hand, she had always had a way with words even in the tensest of situations. Able to bite her tongue…. To an extent. It would be interesting to see where the jaguar mare would end up this time, where her story would lead now.
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