05-20-2015, 11:56 AM
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.
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.
SUNDAY
the amazons magickal mare
the amazons magickal mare