The nightmare steps forward into the sharp silver light of the moon. With eyes made of molten colours, Scorch appraises the scars upon the titan mare's black skin. Seeing such things reminds her of their need for true warrior women. At the moment, they only had Lagertha and herself, for which Scorch is grateful. She may not have the best of friendships with the gray mare, but in truth, she would probably die knowing that she is the only one who fancies battling over cool, pointless words.
She already knows that Alptraum agrees.
"Fuck the Valley. If you prefer this land, choose it." She speaks bluntly, suddenly straightening her weight. Honesty has always been the best policy; queenhood has taught her that. "If you wish to practice the sword, your training will be most profitable here, not elsewhere."
A grin stretches across bladed teeth as she steps forward into the light, revealing her own hairless skin, littered with scars. Everywhere they can be found, from burns to cuts to torn muscles, reformed. She is the epitome of a warrior, a soldier for thirty years now. Nothing anyone says can rebuke the strength of her appearance, the ferocity of her loyalty and battle. But she shouldn't gloat.
"Motherhood has not softened me, either. Seven children belong to me and my consort." She allows that to sink in before continuing, eyes glinting intensely. "Our general is also iron, despite her son. Lagertha will like you. Like you plenty, I must admit." A bladed hoof is raised from the earth before striking down once more, passion writhing in the form of the tattoos on her skin. "Alptraum, there's no wrong in changing your mind. But there is wrong in not following your instinct."
She already knows that Alptraum agrees.
"Fuck the Valley. If you prefer this land, choose it." She speaks bluntly, suddenly straightening her weight. Honesty has always been the best policy; queenhood has taught her that. "If you wish to practice the sword, your training will be most profitable here, not elsewhere."
A grin stretches across bladed teeth as she steps forward into the light, revealing her own hairless skin, littered with scars. Everywhere they can be found, from burns to cuts to torn muscles, reformed. She is the epitome of a warrior, a soldier for thirty years now. Nothing anyone says can rebuke the strength of her appearance, the ferocity of her loyalty and battle. But she shouldn't gloat.
"Motherhood has not softened me, either. Seven children belong to me and my consort." She allows that to sink in before continuing, eyes glinting intensely. "Our general is also iron, despite her son. Lagertha will like you. Like you plenty, I must admit." A bladed hoof is raised from the earth before striking down once more, passion writhing in the form of the tattoos on her skin. "Alptraum, there's no wrong in changing your mind. But there is wrong in not following your instinct."
![[Image: scorch2.png]](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d3f8827d56fd033f445fc5aa8055947a/3778d5ee43303690-eb/s1280x1920/532e323d08dfe066db7c4d27a9277d571bf7cdb2.jpg)