Alptraum & Any

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

No, the throes of birth do not come to Scorch just yet. This being said, her abdomen is hugely swollen to the point that twins evidently lay within her. Despite her large size – sixteen hands and as muscled as a bull – and Hestoni’s – an eighteen hand titan – there can be no mistaking the meaning of her great girth. She is having twins. Again.

She should be miserable, and in a sense, she is. Her pregnancy has caused these night terrors, and the day terrors. Yet despite these things, Scorch retains something of a kind attitude, which of course is the opposite of her usual demeanour. As she lunges to her bladed hooves, suddenly alert for activity around her, anger does not bubble up inside her but instead gratitude. Everything is backwards – but backwards is not always wrong.

Her nostrils widen as the looming Percheron steps from the shadows. She is evidently not a sister; her breast is bare, and her smell foreign. She offers plenty of information though, leading Scorch to believe that the likelihood of her being a spy is minimal. Heart thumping from her dreams, Scorch sighs her weight on to one leg, listening attentively, if not wearily.

”I am the Khaleesi of this Jungle. I’m called Scorch, though I have been called a hairless rat, and much worse.” Her words mimic Alptraum’s, for forming her own intelligent words seems quite the challenge in the aftermath of her restless dreams. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to be hospitable. “Why have you come, Alptraum?” She asks, bladed teeth clicking together almost irritably, but not quite. ”The likes of the Valley don’t usually enjoy the land of the warrior women.”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle