"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
05-20-2015, 12:12 AM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2015, 10:42 PM by Scorch.)
WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT
The hours drew into days drew into weeks drew into months drew into the present: the summoning of the meeting. Scorch calls to them the moment the Desert’s Queens depart. Their answer was slow in coming, relaxed, but Scorch will not mirror their placated characters. Reminiscing – and grieving – her sunshine queen (regardless of their parting) Scorch draws close to the Grandfather tree. Its swooping branches crawl softly against her smooth, hairless skin, the sensation invocative, as though the Jungle herself embraces her. Light glints in Scorch’s teal dragon eyes, their depths roaming the clearing about her. As the howlers scream, the parrots squawk, and the tigers cry, Scorch raises her own voice, calling to the legendary warrior women of old.
They trickle in slowly at first, the brazen and the timid alike, until all at once, they are amongst their Khaleesi. The fire-sister greets each with a dip of her large-boned head, though silence stretches between them until most who will come, have. There are more than whence last she called them together, yet many are new, and few of the old remain.
“Sisters and Brothers, thank you for meeting me here beneath the Grandfather tree.” Charred lips quirk upwards in a small, nostalgic smile as she begins the meeting, deep voice carrying to the very edges of the crowd, though she does not yell. “There are many new faces before me today. Today, there shall be an initiation directly proceeding the matters of business. It is my hope that some of you will feel the Jungle’s call in your hearts.”
(Alright, I see how this might seem slightly cultish. Do the members of the Jungle? Of course not. It’s a kingdom full of women. They’re going to be slightly insane, okay?)
“Firstly, welcome Alptraum, Nayl, Ephrelle, Yronwood, Dorne, Wrynn, Leiland, Vyx, and Naga, to the Jungle. Please enjoy your childhoods, or your stays.” Piercing teal eyes browse the crowd, hoping to catch the latest arrivals, be they by recruiting, choice, or birth. Scorch understands the importance of including the children in the meetings; once, some thirty years ago, Scorch had been very like a few of the youngster, eager and determined to please their mother. (And oh, how she has).
“Secondly, I am pleased to announce that our alliance with the Deserts continues, more strongly than ever.” Thank god Kagerou – or any other empath/telepath/magician – does not happen to inhabit the Jungle right as she speaks this. Scorch, as Khaleesi, remains very pleased with the alliance, and believes it stronger than ever. Scorch, as… Scorch… Cannot help chewing on the thought of Camrynn like a piece of gum. But I digress. “As for the Valley, we were close to making a decision as to where we stood but they have not returned our call. I would not be against having an agreement to open fire, though the shots would be but blanks. Steals and challenges for three month periods – one week in real life – could spice life up a bit. The Jungle groans with staleness, as I’m sure you all know. But please, your opinions on the matter shall be heard.”
For but an instant, the chaos of their surroundings can be heard clearly. Scorch hesitates, and perhaps it shows in the moment of silence. Alas, she must speak. “The Gates’ crown is on the move. We can no longer rely on them solely by blood.” Her voice is calm, projected. She proposed takeover once. Never again.
“The Falls have yet to send diplomats. With this meeting, we may be able to organize parties to visit each kingdom, and thus alert the Falls of our want of an alliance. If, of course, that is still what each of you would wish for the Jungle.” Personally, Scorch fancies that in a time of need, Prague would prance her fat ass around and poof them all better with a pinch of fairy dust. This, however, will not please everyone, so the baroque obliges to their wants.
“Errant has assumed the throne of the Tundra, though I have not heard from him since the upheaval of Mad king Mountain. Alas, considering the part we played in the mutiny, I figure that an alliance is guaranteed, whether Simeon joins my brother on the throne or not. The Tundra grows strong, Sisters, and I believe that our trust is best placed in them.
“Concerning the Dale, all has been silent. Dalten and Ea – Lagertha’s son and my daughter – have not yet been sent, as they are very young. The time draws nigh, however. We shall soon become aware of their doings.”
“If anyone would like to join a caste, please say so now. Rhy and Lagertha are our respective caste leaders, and should you need guidance, they will hold the most knowledge.” Tilting her large head towards the golden Avthillar and the gray Jakka, Scorch opens the floor for them. “If either of you feel inclined to organize mocks or kingdom visits, please do so.”
With the matters of the secret meetings aside and the sharing of the mike completed, Scorch looks to each Sister, grieves the ones who have gone, and rejoices in those who are new, those who are vital to the Jungle’s continuation. “Please, speak freely on the matters which lay heavy on your minds. For those who’s mind wander to the oath, I now present to you the floor. If – and only if - you feel within yourself that the Jungle encompasses all that you look for in a home, in a family, in a life, then you shall say the oath and receive the tattoo of a vine upon your right foreleg, and a red blossom on your chest. The Jungle shall also grant you a personal tattoo. But beware: should you betray the Jungle or your Sisters, the red slash of a traitor shall replace the red blossom and forever mark you as a traitor. If these terms of servitude do not dissuade your decision, repeat after me: ‘To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love.’” She paused; smiles. “Welcome to the Sisterhood.”
Scorch
Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle
Any who do not reply to this meeting will receive a red star, and those with red stars who do not reply will be removed. Thanks! If a full post is not currently do-able due to irl stuff, a one liner will also suffice
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
The nightmare stalked the shadows of the Jungle, enjoying the feeling of raw power that seemed to emanate from the place. Being amongst a group of warrior women, sisters, made the old girl quite content. After Morgenstern she had no desire to become the play thing of some buffoon. Men irritated her, plain and simple. Although it WAS fun to make them think she was a meek docile thing, and then chase them off screaming in agony.
Ears flicked forward, hearing the sounds of many hooves converging on the interesting tree she had spotted earlier. A faintly familiar scent breeched her nostrils, dragging a smile from her lips. Scorch. This must be the initiation she had spoken of. Feathered limbs and massive hooves moved Alptraum through the undergrowth, the clinging shadows caressing her inky hide. Today she would pledge her allegiance to the Jungle, and her protection and support to it's band of sisters. Coming upon the meeting, she stood off to one side, watching as Scorch made her pronouncements. She looked at the electric palomino and they steeled grey woman as Scorch named them, a wry smile touching her blackened lips as she imagined how interesting it would be to spar with either of them. As the Khaleesi spoke her name, she dipped her head in acknowledgement. As the murmurs settled, she stepped forward slightly so that light shone upon her scar riddled body as she took the oath of loyalty to the Jungle.
To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love.
Stepping back into the warm caress of the shadows, she felt a faint warmth snake it's way up her right foreleg and onto her chest. Stretching out her right foreleg, she peered down at the deep green vine that now snaked it's way up the dark limb. The strange warmth continued itself upon her right shoulder, and although she could not see it, a silvery venetian death mask appeared. Quite fitting really, considering all the death she had and could cause. Her dark voice rippled from the umbrage, looking at the grey general as she spoke.
I would join the war caste if so allowed. There I would be most happy. Or as happy as I get anyway.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Jungle, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
Sunday is unsure if her absence had been felt. After all, the jungle was self reliant. It was one of those kingdoms constantly reinventing itself. Her irrelevance, in the grand scheme of things, is what drew her so deeply to the kingdom. Others may take solace in their part, Sunday found peace in being another cog in the wheel.
If she faltered, someone else would step in.
Still, her duty to the jungle is bound and sworn by more than a simple tattoo and a saying of words. The jungle sat squarely in her heart and helped her to the creature she was today. If only her childhood companions - who tortured her so mercilessly! - could see her now. Fortunately, Sunday lacks the true nature to be mean or condescending and she knows she would forgive them.
Ever the good witch.
Scorch calls them together and she appears, turning off her invisibility to appear before them all. She listens to Scorch's words and weighs them quietly, remembering Errant from the Tundra. He helped her when she needed it, and for that she is forever grateful. She never met this mad king, but her memories of the Tundra involve emptiness. Stale.
"I wouldn't mind going to the Gates," she says, quietly. It's not that she doesn't want anyone else to hear, it's just that there's something in Scorch's words that impress upon her the delicacy of the matter. Sunday, of all diplomats, is the most delicate of them all.
"Which kingdoms have agreed to friendly steals and challenges? I would love to get a little experience in stealing, but I would like to avoid any conflict." She is not speaking of any incident in particular, though she did happen upon an image. While strolling through the jungle the other day she found a bit of blood, and when she bent to inhale it a vivid image of a screaming stallion and Scorch - a steal, perhaps? - entered her mind. She pushed it aside.
He is ambling along at a quiet pace, enjoying his meandering stroll through the leafy, humid foliage of the Jungle. It is then that he hears that distinctive call ring out through the trees. He would recognize his mother’s voice anywhere. It is rather distinctive after all. His dark ears flick forward, head turning in the direction that the summons had come from. He pauses for a moment, before turning and continuing in that direction. His pace quickens noticeably, his curiosity driving him forward. He wonders what reasons his mother could have for calling the kingdom together. He is not sworn to the Jungle, but neither his he sworn to any other kingdom. And this is the perfect opportunity to gather some information with which to make his choice.
His original intent had been to visit his mother (soon to be accomplished) and to meet his newest siblings (hopefully also soon to be accomplished). The time he has spent with Librette’s two girl’s weighs heavily upon his mind. That he had met them already but not his own siblings bothers him. Which he now fully intends to rectify.
The thought of the twin girls brings a slight smile to his lips. Both are delightful, but Val’s antics especially made him laugh. The filly is bright and precocious, a combination that certainly spells trouble. He could imagine she would run her mother ragged (little does he know how ragged she might run him).
This is how he can be found when he nearly stumbles into the gathering group of mares - lost entirely in thought. He comes abruptly back to the present, focusing his gaze on the flame colored mare standing before them. A wide smile stretches his lips as he watches her, coffee colored eyes twinkling. He has no doubt she would be surprised to see him (not that she would be likely to show it, of course). He hadn’t exactly announced that he was coming. Granted, he himself hadn’t known he was coming.
He listens closely to her words, his expression filled with intense curiosity. It is not his place to speak, to give his opinion, but he cannot help but add his own quip to the mix.
Honestly, it might spice things up in the Valley as well. It’s been as dull over there as it has been here.
His tone is full of wry humor, his dark eyes mischievous. Sometimes, he just can’t help himself.
05-21-2015, 10:14 AM (This post was last modified: 05-21-2015, 10:34 AM by Myrina.)
And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
Myrina has been frequenting the meadow, but has returned to the Jungle often to nurture her daughter. When she arrives this time, however, there is business to be had. It's impossible to miss the blaring call of their Khaleesi but before she has time to react Nayl is standing in front of her with an icy gaze. "We must go now," there is frost in her voice as she shoulders past Myrina to pursue the location of their Queen. The trees bend and shift at the mother's will, cutting their traveling time in half until they arrive at the gathering, small and still forming.
Myrina stands back to quietly listen while Nayl stands closer to Scorch with a lingering brightness in her autumn eyes. She cares not for the others whose names have been welcomed or much else past that. The girl's mind is wrapping around her vows as she excitedly anticipates them (though her expression doesn't betray her enthusiasm). Nayl is unreadable and composed. Myrina, on the otherhand, is unafraid to show her confusion as Scorch continues speaking of diplomatic ties. "How many kingdoms is the Jungle trying to befriend? It sounds like everyone," who would that leave for them to prey on? What fun is there is not having a single enemy?
Nayl glances warily back to her mother when the question is proposed but immediately refocuses on Scorch as she opens the floors to those that wish to say the vows. Alptraum steps forward first. Impatience claws at the child but she suppresses it as best she can before it is her turn. Her ears pin back momentarily as she takes the opportunity to slip past the others to go before them. Once in place, however, her expression returns to as it was: cool, collected, and oddly frigid. Her voice matches and defies what her age actually is. "To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love." Brothers? The question beats against her consciousness but the child never wavers.
And so her tattoos appear.
Myrina watches with fascination as she remembers the day she did the same. Glancing over her shoulder she can just barely see the rune markings that dance across her skin to signify her familial ties in addition to the vibrancy of earth markings for her powers. Wondering what will appear on Nayl, she straightens herself, spares a glance to Scorch, then looks at her daughter.
A warmth tingles up Nayl's leg, her shoulder, her neck and face, and down her spine. It's an odd feeling but she doesn't flinch at all; she is strong, she tells herself, with the face of a fierce warrior (to be). The emerald green vine wraps tightly around her right leg with the red flower blossoming across her chest. A breath of relief is exhaled but it's far from over. The Jungle is recognizing her blood and the generations that have lived in its embrace. It recalls the most immediate maternal relations and clutches onto the child.
"Fifth generation," Myrina mutters to herself thoughtfully. Paragon, Jadis, Echion, herself, and now her daughter. A proud smile curves the edges of her mouth as she continues to watch the ornate display of initiation. The Jungle brims with excitement toward the newcomers but Nayl is caressed as a cherished treasure. A small tree frog appears on her right hip - a tribute to Jadis, which she doesn't realize - and runes dance around her eyes, down her neck and shoulder - a tribute to Echion. The Jungle hesitates then.
The child is cold. Her stare is frigid.
Myrina arrives with a mane and tail of ice.
Yes, ice.
There is a sound of shattering. The ice is breaking but what ice could there be in the Jungle? Nayl glances back to her mother before realizing it's her. A patch of frost and shattered ice breaches the surface of the skin on her shoulder. It stings but the child grits her teeth and embraces the pain. It's a single patch for now. It's frigid to the touch. It's the beginning of her servitude here. As the years continue on the ice and frost will expand. While Scorch is the fire of Echion's personality Nayl is the bitter coldness of her heart. Fire and Ice. Powerful. A frigid breath is exhaled - a single occurrence.
She is a celebration of her heritage and of the generations of blood that has remained devoted to this land, but she is also unique. Ice can be invisible and lethal.
Nayl manages to smile then before receding back to her mother's side as her tattoos continue to excitedly tingle.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.
Ephrelle comes when she is called, even if she does not recognize the beckoning voice. The black filly, nearing her six month birthday, has always been an agreeable child. That is not to say, of course, that she is complacent; Dorne has treated her children as if they were miniature adults, using logic and reason to raise them rather than the iron will that her own mother had imposed. Ephrelle, though still quite young, knows herself remarkably well and has already made her decision by the time Scorch finishes speaking.
Though she arrives alone, the roan filly quickly finds Nayl, and presses herself comfortably against the other girl's side, a friendly greeting for the young Amazon that is her closest friend (besides her twin, of course). When Nayl steps up to recite the words and pledges herself to the Jubgle, it solidifies Ephrelle's decision, and she nods her small head determinedly. She will do it. She will become an Amazon.
"To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters, I swear my loyalty and love."
Her voice is young, but clear and strong. She does not waver, even when the magic flows through her body. The vine twines up her dark leg and blooms crimson on her breast - nature aided by the arcane. Ever so slowly, a tiny creature emerges from the heart of the flower, a golden honeybee that settles on the petals of the red flower and flexes its new wings. It is small, difficult to see, but Ephrelle can feel the tickle of the small feet and the comforting buzz of its wings as it takes flight. It will grow as she does, decorating the filly with the familiar golden pattern, but for now it simply travels across her chest, back and forth from the flower to the stem. She smiles happily and glances back at Nayl - utterly content with her choice.
Bay overo colt wanders in, recognizing easily the voice of Scorch when she called them. He has grown much since seeing her last, but is confident she will know him. When he approaches the group, his amber eyes glance over everyone present, seeking out the familiar form of his mother whom he so resembles aside from the massive black wings he inherited from his father. Not seeing her yet, he places himself on the outskirts of those assimilated, listening to their Khaleesi and as many new females utter the oath she offers in the name of the Jungle. He smiles, knowing his mother, Malka, and Scorch would be pleased with the activity of their new members. He himself, has contented himself with patrolling the borders when not visiting with his father or hanging out with his mother. He's been a bit of a loner thus far, so isn't too surprised at not recognizing most gathered. However, he does at least know a few of their scents from within the Jungle. He thinks on the rest of what Scorch has said and wonders where he should stand. Naturally, being the son of a warrior, he wonders how good a soldier he himself would make. And Malka, his sweet mother, is good with the words and stands strong by her queen and the sisterhood. Perhaps he might one day make good on the peace side, then? For now, as undecided as he is at this point, he decides to keep quiet and observe the rest.
[So sorry for the crap post. Muse has been fleeting]
It’s nice to be back home, that’s for sure. The grullo mare has spent the past few weeks settling back into the Jungle, investigating old haunts, and bothering her fellow sisters. It’s definitely helped her to realize how much she’s missed this place. The Jungle has been her home for the vast majority of her life, and it just feels right to her. Funny that it took leaving for her to realize that.
On this particular day she’s enjoying herself in a small clearing located close to the centre of the kingdom. With the approach of winter, weather in the kingdom has been wet as of late, and she’s taking the opportunity to take advantage of her abilities, and catch a few rays of sun.
Unfortunately, her sun tanning is cut short when a familiar voice rings out across the kingdom. Scorch. Lyris leans up against a tree, half tempted to ignore the call. She’s comfortable and doesn’t particularly feel like joining a meeting, especially when her name will likely not be mentioned, since she has yet to become a more active member of the kingdom. But …
She sighs. She can’t very well ignore the queen. Scorch would not be entirely impressed with her if she tried a trick like that, and she’s already seen what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Scorch’s tongue. She’d like to avoid being in that position herself.
So, with a groan, she hauls herself up of the tree and heads in the direction that Scorch’s voice had come from. It isn’t far off thankfully, and within minutes she has slipped in behind the group of gathered sisters.
Most of what the queen has to say isn’t particularly interesting - new members, new children, urges for activity … though all important she supposes. The news of alliances and changes in thrones also barely manages catches her interest. News of the potential open season upon the Valley sounds like fun however. And really, she needs to get to know some of the other kingdoms anyway. “I’ll visit somewhere if yah like.”
She melts away from the diplomatic meeting silently, following her mother wordlessly to the meeting. She is still astonished at all the things that the jungle is; really, she's astonished at all the things that life is. She's barely half a year old, and the world is still somehow intangible, impossibly fresh and new and fascinating. Perhaps that fascination will fade in time, beaten out of her by a life that has always been destined to be terrible and unforgiving. Or perhaps it will defy the odds, lingering on.
She stays close to her mother's side (but not too close, not close enough to diminish her mother's queenly bearing). She listens silently as Scorch speaks, interested in every word and yet lacking most of the context to understand any of it. She had been present for the meeting with the horses from the Desert, but she'd understood little and less of that too. But still she listens, making mental notes – Deserts, Gates, Falls, Tundra, Dale, Valley, all places that seem terribly abstract to her. Perhaps she should visit them, learn about them. Maybe they're pretty like the jungle, she thinks.
Scorch closes with an invitation to speak freely, and then an oath. Wrynn hasn't been taught or told what the oath means, but she's put two and two together – nearly every mare in the jungle has the same marking on their foreleg and chest, a green vine and a red bud. In silence, Wrynn listens as two fillies of her age group (neither of whom she's ever met, she's not been the most outgoing sort) swear it, and she wonders at them. How can they commit themselves to something so completely at their age? If they're anything like her, they barely know themselves – how can they pledge their hearts? But it is not her position to question, not her place to wonder such things, and so she is silent, a little bay shadow next to her mother, small and pretty, unremarkable except for her rainbow eyes.
When their answers become fewer and more far between, after a mare with tattoos like lightning who smells like a storm, Wrynn finally speaks – but just a little. "I can do a visit, if we need someone else." her voice is quiet, as though she's trying to keep her words hushed so it would be easy to talk over her, interrupt her, and drown her out if necessary.
Scorch calls to them. It’s rather inevitable, she supposes, after the meeting with the Deserts. Though it seems that meeting hadn’t gone exactly like Scorch had planned, though her words don’t give that away. Only Rhy was there, and the fillies, and Rhy isn’t going to say anything. She’s too much the diplomat for that. Though she wasn’t sure she trusted the Deserts alliance much more than she trusted the Valley. No, that’s not entirely true. She simply didn’t trust the monarchs that made the promise. She did trust that if the Deserts as a whole had voted on the alliance, they would keep it as well. The masses were powerful, and their Queens seemed to be democratic enough.
Scorch keeps going with things that Rhy already knows, and she listens to make sure she knows what is being discussed, though for the time being she doesn’t say anything yet. She’d rather let others voice their opinion first. Though she does have to agree with what Scorch says about the Tundra, though more for her own personal reasons. The Amazonian woman had enough ties to the Tundra that she believed them to be their most trustworthy ally, assuming they did in fact choose to ally at all. It seemed unlikely that they wouldn’t, however.
Many new faces come forward and swear their allegiance to the Jungle. Some of them are quite young, and she wonders which of them truly understand the vow they have taken. Of course, vow’s can be broken, though the brand of the traitor cannot be removed. Others speak up of visiting kingdoms, and eventually Rhy does jump in here. They do not need to go to every kingdom. It grates on the other kingdoms if they send visiting parties too often, and in particular, a few of the kingdoms had come to them recently anyway.
“Sunday, if you would like to go to the Gates, that would be great. And take Wrynn with you. See if you can find out who the new monarch is, and any information about the kingdom. Obviously, it is up to the kingdom as a whole, but I would wait to agree to any sort of alliance until we know more about the direction that kingdom is heading in.” She’s not sure that the Gates is worth an alliance. Truthfully, they may be a burden on the Jungle without giving the Jungle anything in return. But perhaps new monarchs would change that. She doesn’t know, and so she leaves it to the sisters to decide what they what. She’s voiced her own opinion on the matter.
“Lyris, do you want to head to the Falls? If someone would like to join her, please feel free, though only one other. “ They had settled on their decision in the Falls. Scorch may prefer to rely on Prague, but Prague hadn’t been seen in the Jungle in years. The healing waters were far more reliable than magicians. And the people of the Falls were typically true to their word. “Both the Chamber and the Deserts have visited recently, so we don’t need to pester them with more diplomatic visits. And if we choose to open fire with the Valley, I don’t think they will be pleased at the sight of diplomats on their border. I personally, wouldn’t be opposed to some excitement around here.”
She pauses, waiting to see if anyone has anything to add here before continuing. “I’ll head to the Tundra, and if someone wants to join me, that would be great. We can send diplomats to the Dale when the children are sent.” She falls silent then, her job done for the moment. And then she waits to see what else might be said.
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