DESOLATION COMES UPON THE SKY - lagertha

[Scorch]

ooc - sooo I am frikken lazy and am not willing to write two whole posts, so here I am writing to myself in one post. Sorry!! Sarah, Lagertha can totes still reply after Also, no html because... no. ALSO. I just read that this is a diplomatic steal, so I edited it so that Nihlus is coming out of his sheer will to be a dick rather than by force I didn't want to delete it all because I still want lag and scorch to talk <3

Nihlus follows Lagertha to the Jungle, teasing her along the way. Even if it was a 'diplomatic steal,' he still intends on bugging the shit out of her. She did attack his king - which he's grateful for - but hell, he's far too interest in bugging Lagertha, and meeting Scorch. "I hope you don't mind me joining you back home, I've family business, you know." He's a colt, and has no intention of behaving like anything else. For once, he is not cynical or sarcastic or sinisterly gay. He is rambunctious, running ahead and then shifting into a rabbit to hide in a bush. It really was quite hilarious, whether Lagertha cared to chase him or not. In the end, he shifts back into a horse form and follows her. When the humidity starts to set in, Nihlus snorts. It really is too hot here, even if he was bred to live here. Rain begins to soak the two horses - absolutely dumping from the skies like a none-stop waterfall from the heavens - and Nihlus grins obnoxiously. If you can't beat the humidity, make it worse. I mean, the rain was positively warm. Yuck.

~

Scorch waits patiently on the edge of the  Jungle, not having slept since Errant's visit the night before. She'd been planning on doing what he demanded, but knowing what lies on the precipice of her words, she's eager to get it over with. What she is not eager for however is interaction with Lagertha, but so be it. Her General has done well in getting a successful steal, and Scorch will respect that. But Lagertha knows and even voted on an alliance with the Tundra - perhaps she had some exterior motive. Scorch seeks to find out.

Her grey general and her yearling nephew arrive in a torrent of rain, one which the Jungle direly needs. It has been positively dry ever since the demon blizzard. Flicking her scraggly tail, Scorch waits patiently until they've come right up to her, just beneath the first of the trees.

~

"Khaleesi Scorch - or should I say Grandma." The colt tosses his sopping forelock fabulously. "I've come to be your slave for the next year. Never thought I'd actually meet you, but hell, I guess there's no better way than by force." Grinning, the rain-blackened colt stretches out his foreleg. "Surely you know that Noori has had triplets. I'm -"

~

"You're Nihlus, and your siblings are Cerva and Daemron. I am well informed, dear grandson." Her voice is hard, as the situation she's come into is rather awkward, especially with Lagertha standing right there. "As it is, I am returning you to the Tundra. We have no need of slave labour from our allies. You be sure to tell Errant that. Now begone."

~

Nihlus quirks a brow at the sudden harsh words. Unperturbed, the handsome colt bows deeply to Scorch, and then equally as deeply to Lagertha. "As you wish. Pleased to meet you both. Perhaps I will visit again someday, though I've no interest in women." Winking saucily, Nihlus whirls about and departs for home, happy as could be. The drama really does suit the man when he lets it.

~

Sighing as her grandson departs, Scorch turns to face Lagertha. "I'm sorry to have borne something quite so set on annoying you." Snapping her thin tail, Scorch settles her weight. "I'm also sorry to have to send him back without even a tour. Errant demanded it." No more secrets, she's told herself. Even with the ones who deserve it least. "But I'm pleased that you managed to steal so successfully. If you'd like, I may reward you with a trait. Otherwise, I say well done."

"I've also come to ask what your intentions were in going to the Tundra, and what all happened. Errant isn't one for random family get togethers." Her voice is genuinely interested, and almost friendly. Scorch really does not want to start a war between the General and herself, no matter what the world wants to believe.

[Mountain]

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Anything I say you lie along with me

Every song you sing is all because of me

Errant does not seize the woman despite my cries - something that frustrates me. There is no rule against seizing an insolent mare that dare attack the king. He is a liar, and - I mentally check off - not loyal. These facts are compartmentalized, for I have a larger play at hand. One that involves rooting out those that don't support me and kicking them to the curb.

Lagertha agrees to his terms and I am left between a rock and a hard place - so, of course, I chose the rock. "I will gladly speak with your queen about your horrific steal," I say, throwing an angry eye to those around me "Join if you wish." My tone implies my displeasure. The colt stays.

So I follow her from the icy fortress of the Tundra, across the open Beqanna expanse, and at long last to the jungle. There is blissful silence from her and angry pouting from me, but I am thankful for the lack of conversation. Nothing annoys me more than this mare, nothing.

I seek out Scorch with the mare, glad to recognize her immediately. She'd journeyed to the Tundra not too long ago, I'm sure she'll remember me. I allow a smile, though it is pained by the closeness of the thorned mare. The wound on my rump is scabbed but fresh - I hope she can see it.

"Scorch," I say. "It's such a pleasure to see you again, though under such unfortunate circumstances. It appears your bloodrider here stole a child from the Tundra, and then went on to attack me." I flick my tail at the last statement. "I'm sure this is a huge misunderstanding."

Surely.

Anytime I cry you always laugh at me.

No matter what you do you belong to me

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Mountain asks them to accompany him (well, almost) and Errant is at least loyal enough to come along. His loyalty, however, is not to Mountain – but they all know that by now. It has been years since his last physical walk to the Jungle, and the black stallion remains quiet as they go. Time has shifted since he had last arrived here, things had happened that no longer have. It causes an uncomfortable ache in his head, a pressure that will not fade until dawn, when the time he has toyed with has completely run out. In some timeline, Scorch had had this chat with Nihlus, but in this one, she has not. Errant would apologize for any uncomfortable resonation in their minds, any sense of déjà-vu. He waits until Mountain has spoken, and then turns his head to look at a brightly colored parrot perched in a nearby tree. Rather than inspect its blue and gold plumage as it appears he is doing, he says silently to Scorch and Lagertha: “Keep him here. He’ll find some way to offend you – use it as a reason to extend his sentence. We need only a few hours.” Errant is banking on the king’s social ineptitude to buy the Tundra the time it needs, but he doubts that Mountain will let him down. “Should we let their majesties speak?” He says aloud to Lagertha, stepping away from Mountain’s side and gesturing down the path, away from the small gathering place. With any luck, Mountain will interpret it as an attempt to apologize for Errant’s previous disloyalty: He is acknowledging he is not enough for this meeting of royal minds. Whether Lagertha comes with him or not – and she will be free to return - the black stallion moves forward and is quickly enveloped by the thick foliage of the jungle. As soon as he is out of Mountain’s sight, he disappears entirely - leaving Lagertha alone. Errant is back in the Tundra. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Lagertha]

this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more

Niether Errant nor Lagertha are chatterboxes, so the parade back to the Jungle is a silent one. Even if Nihlus decides to tag along, she merely flicks her ears back and answers infrequently, her mind elsewhere. While the General has her hunches about the situation, the fact is that she doesn’t know what will happen once they find Scorch, and while she would like to pretend not to care, the fact is that she begrudgingly does.

Mostly to prove the naysayers wrong.
Scorch can still go fuck herself, but she would be damned if any tongue found her wanting for loyalty.

On the outside it may seem as if the gray mare was attempting to get back in Scorch’s good graces, but the fact is that it was purely self-serving. While she would never dare to dream that the Brotherhood would ever owe her a favor, she hoped he had an in with them. The ruse she devised had been fairly clever and executed with minimal bloodshed (though she honestly didn’t care about that. Mountain’s head could have been beneath her hooves and she would have been happy as well), and the best part is that it was thought up all by herself.

Sure, maybe he would have been deposed anyway, and they most likely didn’t need her help. But wasn’t it more fun this way? And wasn’t it the perfect excuse? Blame it on the Amazons. Blame it (praise her) on Lagertha. She would be thrilled to play the part.

Lagertha Kingstealer.
Spymaster. Master Thief. Intelligentsia. Power player.
The possibilities were endless.

As endless as her disappointments and daydreams, and so she brings herself back to reality when the group reaches familiar soil. Lagertha takes the lead and delivers the small group to Scorch, standing quietly while Mountain bombards her with demands and questions. The first thing she hopes is that the woman will gloss over the fact that Lagertha used her old title to fib and get somewhere (the mess is in the details), and the second is that Scorch doesn’t get to take any credit for this one. Errant then suggests they leave the two monarchs to talk, and she nods, both in agreement with his suggestion and to his request. And in return - she is on the black stallion’s heels as they melt into the darkness, the words halfway to her lips to take the credit for it, until she realizes it doesn't matter. It would all come out in due time. And in the end, it really doesn't matter because she wouldn't have had time to get more than a few words out before Errant vanishes.

If he knows, he knows. Telling him would have seemed rather desperate. Which she is, but coming off like that wasn't part of her personal agenda.

She snorts, rather irritated at his brusqueness, but given his picking and choosing of aide, is ultimately not surprised. She understands that he is neither on her side, nor Scorch’s. He is for himself and the Brotherhood. He is for his family. None of which include Lagertha, and she wonders how much it includes the hairless rat.

Fortunately, she doesn’t have long to ponder because there is yet another visitor at their door; one who does the taking of the taker, and with more power (god she hates to admit that) than she could ever wield.

Eight.

lagertha

carnage x grim reaper; amazonian general

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Ah yes, what a headache Errant has caused! One reality where Nihlus has come; another where Mountain comes; one where she is actually interested in Lagertha’s doings, and not furious; another where she’s furious, but simply because she’s dreadfully confused. Which perhaps a Queen should not be, but then again, a King should not come pouting into her queendom.
 
Errant and Lagertha follow, facts of which cause the flames on her skin to flicker dangerously. Listening with one ear to Mountain’s little rant, Scorch glares first at her Jakka and then at her brother. What the hell is going on here?” Her cacophonous dragon eyes clearly ask. When Errant’s voice overwhelms Mountain’s, she does not grow any more understanding for the situation, but perhaps more of a resolve. More than anything, Scorch needs – and wants – to prove her loyalty to her brother and the Tundra.
 
Errant excuses himself while Scorch returns her scrutinizing gaze to Mountain. Lagertha follows the stallion, and without any notice of the Queen’s, they disappear completely. Well, to hell with them. To hell with everyone. By the time she’s sent them both of with a small dip of her head – a show of loyalty, if you will – it’s been plenty a minute since Mountain’s original bombardment of questions. Well, to hell with him too.
 
”A child who happens to be my grandson,” She comments irrelevantly, though her tones are clipped. Lagertha had the cheek to pick out her offspring out of all the colts in the Tundra, or even of the men, the bastard. Scorch should have thought of doing shit like that decades ago. ”Tell me, Mountain. Did you consider that perhaps my bloodrider - the false title taste foul in her mouth - ”Was attempting to reunite us?” her large ears tip backwards slowly. ”Who are you to prevent family from being just that – a family?”

Her lips peel back, revealing razor sharp teeth – lethal teeth. Rage fills her – Mountain would be able to tell by the flicker of her flames and the chaos of colour within her eyes – but it is not the rage which she portrays with her words. She is far more angry that she knows not what is happening beyond this little thicket of theirs, of why she has to babysit the two year old who really fucking wants those cupcakes.

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Mountain]

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Anything I say you lie along with me

Every song you sing is all because of me

It has occurred to me that many of my men underestimate me. I see this in the way Errant tags along, only to dip out with the bloodrider who stole a child. They disappear into the thicket of the jungle without another word my way. All the better, I have little care for what they do. The thorned woman is gone, and with her the pulsing of the wound on my rump.

I remind myself to bring it to Scorch's attention.

"I was unaware the Amazons were in the habit of stealing their own family members from kingdoms," I say simply, though there is nothing lethal in my voice. It's not in my nature to respond with anything more than false grandeur. Scorch can bare her teeth all she wants, she will not provoke a rise from me so easily. "I thought we were on such terms that you could simply visit - your last visit was most pleasant. I feel as though we learned much about each other." There is only a moments hesitation between the sentences. "It does beg an interesting question - a question I came here to get answers. See, I have no intention of dragging out some silly dispute because a member of your kingdom stepped out of line. See, I asked myself a lot of questions on the walk over here. What does a high ranked member hope to accomplish by stealing a child - who willingly comes and goes - from a neighboring, friendly kingdom? Diplomatic or no, a CHILD." I don't do any of the tsk-ing or fake shake of my head that a normal asshole would do.

No, I was raised to be civil, and that just isn't civil.

"If your bloodriders are not acting in accordance to your rule that wouldn't bode well. The Amazons are a notoriously strong kingdom, I can understand a hiccup amongst strong women." I pause then, and only then. "I'm sure this was a mistake."

Anytime I cry you always laugh at me.

No matter what you do you belong to me

[Lagertha]

this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more

Lagertha can’t be gone for more than a couple of minutes; enough for Errant and herself to get far enough into the greenery where he can safely poof away, and then a quick conversation with that voice, and back to the present situation. Keep him here for a couple of hours. Right.

The gray warrior comes calmly back out of the Jungle, shaking her head in mock disgust, and mutters half to herself and half to Scorch and Mountain, “Magicians… do they always pop in and out like that?“ She will freely admit that it would be a useful trick to have up one’s sleeve. Potentially annoying in the right circumstances. Definitely great for espionage. Oh well, she’d have to make due with what she’s got, which as it turns out, isn’t too shabby (right, Mountain? Be glad she didn’t use diamond spikes).

She tries to quickly assess the situation, having caught only the last bit of Mountain’s assumption about bloodriders straying from their Queen. Well he wasn’t entirely wrong, but that is neither here nor there. They had to keep him in the Jungle - either by force or pretense - long enough for the Tundra to do whatever it is that they need to do. Crown Errant with an icicle-pop or something. So here goes: she stops somewhat behind Mountain, catching him between the two women (watch well, when will this cooperation ever happen again?). “What Mountain isn’t saying is that he claimed to be your dear friend and hasn’t any notion of what a diplomatic steal is? What if a younger sister were watching, somewhere, and wanted to see what it was to steal? Wouldn’t that be a teaching moment?” She snorts. “Not to mention the fact that I showed you where your security is lacking. But please continue with your laundry list of complaints. It is quite becoming of a King.”

Lagertha visibly relaxes, cocking a hind leg. This is her land. She assumes that Scorch will present a united front, if only for appearances’ sake, and probably scream at her later. So be it; she hasn't done anything wrong.

lagertha

carnage x grim reaper; amazonian general

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Mountain’s rambling chips away at what little patience and calm Scorch had left, leaving her with only one mechanism: silence. She watches him more so than listens, though she’s finding his loud voice to be more irritating than the Howlers at midnight. When he’s finally silent, Scorch has quite the answer built up (mostly in the form of steam about to shoot from her large ears) when Lagertha shows up.

And mark my words, for I’ll never say them again, Scorch was bloody glad.

”I’m sure that I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mountain, but you are no friend of mine. The only horses I count among that number bear the vine and flower.” She speaks heavily, though not only towards the King; her eyes find Lagertha’s for a split second before returning to their prior position. ”And I must say that your lack of understanding (that is, for family, steal classifications, and security) is quite concerning. Have you always been so foolish, or has it developed with old age?”

Well, he is to be replaced. If ever there was an opportunity for Scorch to release her true bitch potential, now would be the time. In fact, she’s happy of the opportunity. Too many things have gone awry for her to even try and dam the onslaught of anger she feels inside; hell, every knows she’s never been good at that task.

”So to answer your question, no, it was not a mistake. Nihlus is blood of my blood, he is child of my child. So no matter his age, he is made of iron, unlike his king.” Her voice is not very loud necessarily, but her tone writhes with scorn. ”If you think for one moment that my progeny are too weak for a simple steal, I’ll politely remind you who you are dealing with.” A bit of a pedestal she has placed herself upon, but as I’ve said, to hell with manners and courtesies.

Mimicking Lagertha with a lean of her weight into one hip, Scorch lazily shifts her gaze to her ‘bloodrider.’ ”So, Lagertha, what are we to do with… This?”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Mountain]

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Anything I say you lie along with me

Every song you sing is all because of me

Scorch speaks and I am unable to hide my surprise, though I do my best to quench it. Is this mare mad? Absolutely ranting, raving mad? Our last meeting was very civil, very well - and now this? My brows furrow at her words, and I know instantly that she is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Everything she is saying is a lie, because she doesn't understand. She thinks she does, but she doesn't.

I am the king of the greatest kingdom in Beqanna.
She has stolen from us, and a child at that.
She is wrong, I am right. It's so black and white, it's so simple, it's so OBVIOUS.

"It appears this meeting has come to an end, then," I say, rolling my eyes at the return of the mare that stole the colt. Oh great, I hope she stands near me and breathes heavily some more. She is a liar, too, they both are. Not to be trusted, really, just to be thrown to the dogs.

And she speaks to the mare about what they should do. Hah! I could laugh! I come here on my own free will, despite what either may think, and I leave on my own free will as well. "It was quite the pleasure doing business with you and your bloodrider," I say, though malice is heavy and obvious in my voice. I turn without much more, glad that we're just within the border, and leave the Amazons.

Fuck those bitches, I have better things to do. Like return to my kingdom.

Anytime I cry you always laugh at me.

No matter what you do you belong to me

[Scorch]

And in the next moment, they are alone. Scorch thinks for a moment of stopping the manic king from leaving her kingdom, but decides against her. She remembers what had happened when she forced Hestoni to stay in the Zon's - eight children, that's what. While the mares of the Jungle were no brood mares, if Scorch had any say in which ones did the impregnating, Mountain wouldn't even be on the list.

Grinding her teeth together as the wretch slithers free from the motherland, Scorch rolls her shoulders and faces Lagertha squarely. Her dragon eyes glint, but with what is indeterminable - they are perhaps spiteful, perhaps grateful, perhaps contemplative. For a moment they stand like that, Scorch holding her Jakka's gaze, looking for hints of the grey woman's feelings. That armour hides more than your skin, Lagertha.

Exhaling suddenly in something of a snort and a sigh, Scorch releases her weight on to her right foreleg, a crude smile separating her anciently charred lips.

"Well. That was eventful."

Really, it was quite over dramatic, but alas, what else could be expected from men? Especially men in power. The only one who she has known to keep his composure is Errant, and even he is prone to performing disappearing tasks when a tantrum is nigh.

"What happened to his chest? Looked impressive. I didn't think armour could be used as a weapon." She dips her head in acknowledgment of her sister's creativity and supremacy over their male counterparts, or should I say, lesser male counterparts.