this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
Yesterday, Tantalize took the Air Force wings and within minutes, they had disappeared from her shoulder blades, simply evaporating into thin air. And when they were gone, a tingle began at the top of her hooves, creeping upward in a shot of whiskey, pleasantly drunk sort of way. It spread itself through every short and long muscle fiber, every blood vessel and aching joint. Beqanna wasn’t fucking kidding around - its actions were remarkably fast this time. In regaining her immortality, part one of her complete.
She anticipates that Part Two will take a little longer, as getting all the ducks in a row is a delicate and tiresome task. So when Lagertha wakes up, she feels like a younger version of herself again - the one that rose with the dawn and trained at her obstacle course every day. The bruises and cuts and fights over the years no longer protest at her rising. God, she wishes she could stretch like a cat today and feel everything reanimate itself. The perpetual to-do list comes up and as she’s running over it (all the things she has the energy to do today!), Scorch’s voice invades her thoughts.
An ear flicks towards where the mare’s voice comes from, and despite the fact that she does not like the hairless rat, there is something wrong about the way she’s calling out. She’s not bunked down in the middle of the clearing, so there is the typical Jungle clusterfuck to get around, and when Scorch finally does show herself, Lagertha’s dark gray eyes widen. Oh. Oh she does not look good. Not at all. Unfortunately, the General isn’t the cuddly, comforting sort. She’s the physically supporting and awkward pat on the shoulder and stand guard over the hospital room sort. “Scorch…?” she asks in a low, gravelly voice. All enmity aside, they are sisters. Whether either of them likes it or not. She takes a step towards the unwell mare and listens while trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
Part of her is elated, and that same part of her selfishly curses that it has come to this - a passing on the crown by default - though it does explain her notable absence. The gray mare nods decisively and says simply, “I will,” and because she cannot stand the weakness in Scorch’s eyes, she moves towards her again, pivoting to put herself up as a cane for the ailing woman. “Lean on me,” she murmurs, noting that it was a good thing that the two of them are similar sizes - she can take the brunt of Scorch’s weight and not collapse (thanks immortality) - at least for the several feet between them and the overhanging rock she seems to want to lay under. When Scorch is as comfortable as Lagertha can ensure, she takes a step back and stands to the side, guarding the former Queen as she would any fallen soldier. “When Sunday gets here, she can help.” Or so Lagertha hopes.
In as loud a voice as she can muster, the General summons her sisters to a rather unconventional meeting place. She leaves no one behind, and if Scorch cannot make it to the traditional meeting place, then the women will simply have to come to them. And now, all she can do is wait. Wait and watch and try to calm her racing mind.
They do come - slowly but surely - and Lagertha knows that there are questions to be answered, especially from those who are fond of Scorch. She hopes none of them are crazy enough to jump to conclusions, for there is no evidence of foul play, at least none that Lagertha could have caused. Her horns may rise above her head in a sharp, pointy headdress, but there is no blood on either of them. Any battle between them would have been full of bloodshed… If and when Sunday comes, Lagertha asks her to take a look at the fire sister and she if she can do anything to help or alleviate the pain or… something. Just do something. And finally, when it seems as they are all here, she looks out over their questioning eyes and takes a deep breath, diving right in. She stands tall and stoic, her horns (which she will have to give up) already an artificial crown. “As you can see, Scorch is unwell, and if anyone can help her, please do so now. If not, we will need someone to take her to the Falls. You all should know that she has also named me her successor, effective immediately. So I turn the question back to you, sisters. Will you have me as your Khaleesi?”
Lagertha is giving them the choice again. The choice that was never given to them ten years ago.
What does her family have to say?
lagertha
carnage x grim reaper; amazonian general