06-21-2016, 04:04 PM
I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
It is entirely too quiet, and Lagertha does not like it. The toucans still squawk, and the tapirs still snuffle along the ground; the jaguars still scream in the dark of the night, and the howlers still mark their territory. But the are no sounds of hoofbeats on the hardened paths, no cries of greeting in the clearing; she cannot smell her sisters in the hot wind - except for one. Or two. They were young and strong and everything she wished the Kingdom to be, and yet none had taken notice.
Instead, they licked their wounds and retreated; it is more than infuriating. She wants to kick and scream and personally rally each and every one of the Sisters from the shadows - force them out with her spikes until she can tongue-lash them to within an inch of their lives. She wants to strip them of their tattoos and make them bleed again for the Jungle - for her, for their home - because she’s never understood abandonment. Lagertha understands the need to rest, the need to be with family, even the need to explore. But she will always come back, and she will never unexpectedly leave. How can she, when the spirit has seen into the darkest pit of her soul and observed the anger and apathy and bloodlust that is an undeniable part of her? And yet it deemed her worthy, for whatever reason, and continues to do so. There are nights when she wakes to find an unblinking, harvest-moon gaze on her, and then the tell-tale sign of pawprints in the early morning light. Once, she dreamed of Anguisette, and woke the find the jaguar curled in her daughter’s place, the way she used to do when she was a filly.
Lagertha would rage and rage and rage if it would light a fire underneath her sisters. She could, but it would be useless. The Amazonians don’t react well to that sort of thing.
Lexa, however, is another story. One of Lagertha’s pillars of her reign was that if you did the work, you would get promoted. Lyris’s daughter has done the work and outshone all others (not that there were many to outshine, but a Queen needs someone to rely on occasionally), and deserved to be rewarded. No one will ever come close to being Rhy, and when the golden mare remained missing, she’d decided she would never have another Erinak. So Bloodrider it is, and the gray mare is out in search of the spotted sister. She finds her with a new recruit at the edge of the clearing, and approaches with bold, strong strides. “Hello Lexa,” she says when she is in earshot, and then turns a neutral gaze to the silver buckskin mare that accompanies her. “And who are you?” she asks bluntly, as is her nature. The question is not a challenge, not entirely.
Lagertha knows she can’t afford to scare away any recruits right now.
Instead, they licked their wounds and retreated; it is more than infuriating. She wants to kick and scream and personally rally each and every one of the Sisters from the shadows - force them out with her spikes until she can tongue-lash them to within an inch of their lives. She wants to strip them of their tattoos and make them bleed again for the Jungle - for her, for their home - because she’s never understood abandonment. Lagertha understands the need to rest, the need to be with family, even the need to explore. But she will always come back, and she will never unexpectedly leave. How can she, when the spirit has seen into the darkest pit of her soul and observed the anger and apathy and bloodlust that is an undeniable part of her? And yet it deemed her worthy, for whatever reason, and continues to do so. There are nights when she wakes to find an unblinking, harvest-moon gaze on her, and then the tell-tale sign of pawprints in the early morning light. Once, she dreamed of Anguisette, and woke the find the jaguar curled in her daughter’s place, the way she used to do when she was a filly.
Lagertha would rage and rage and rage if it would light a fire underneath her sisters. She could, but it would be useless. The Amazonians don’t react well to that sort of thing.
Lexa, however, is another story. One of Lagertha’s pillars of her reign was that if you did the work, you would get promoted. Lyris’s daughter has done the work and outshone all others (not that there were many to outshine, but a Queen needs someone to rely on occasionally), and deserved to be rewarded. No one will ever come close to being Rhy, and when the golden mare remained missing, she’d decided she would never have another Erinak. So Bloodrider it is, and the gray mare is out in search of the spotted sister. She finds her with a new recruit at the edge of the clearing, and approaches with bold, strong strides. “Hello Lexa,” she says when she is in earshot, and then turns a neutral gaze to the silver buckskin mare that accompanies her. “And who are you?” she asks bluntly, as is her nature. The question is not a challenge, not entirely.
Lagertha knows she can’t afford to scare away any recruits right now.
Lagertha
Warrior Queen of the Amazons