And in the darkened underpass I thought,
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
"Oh Satan, my chance has come at last!"
Myrina has been frequenting the meadow, but has returned to the Jungle often to nurture her daughter. When she arrives this time, however, there is business to be had. It's impossible to miss the blaring call of their Khaleesi but before she has time to react Nayl is standing in front of her with an icy gaze. "We must go now," there is frost in her voice as she shoulders past Myrina to pursue the location of their Queen. The trees bend and shift at the mother's will, cutting their traveling time in half until they arrive at the gathering, small and still forming.
Myrina stands back to quietly listen while Nayl stands closer to Scorch with a lingering brightness in her autumn eyes. She cares not for the others whose names have been welcomed or much else past that. The girl's mind is wrapping around her vows as she excitedly anticipates them (though her expression doesn't betray her enthusiasm). Nayl is unreadable and composed. Myrina, on the otherhand, is unafraid to show her confusion as Scorch continues speaking of diplomatic ties. "How many kingdoms is the Jungle trying to befriend? It sounds like everyone," who would that leave for them to prey on? What fun is there is not having a single enemy?
Nayl glances warily back to her mother when the question is proposed but immediately refocuses on Scorch as she opens the floors to those that wish to say the vows. Alptraum steps forward first. Impatience claws at the child but she suppresses it as best she can before it is her turn. Her ears pin back momentarily as she takes the opportunity to slip past the others to go before them. Once in place, however, her expression returns to as it was: cool, collected, and oddly frigid. Her voice matches and defies what her age actually is. "To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love." Brothers? The question beats against her consciousness but the child never wavers.
And so her tattoos appear.
Myrina watches with fascination as she remembers the day she did the same. Glancing over her shoulder she can just barely see the rune markings that dance across her skin to signify her familial ties in addition to the vibrancy of earth markings for her powers. Wondering what will appear on Nayl, she straightens herself, spares a glance to Scorch, then looks at her daughter.
A warmth tingles up Nayl's leg, her shoulder, her neck and face, and down her spine. It's an odd feeling but she doesn't flinch at all; she is strong, she tells herself, with the face of a fierce warrior (to be). The emerald green vine wraps tightly around her right leg with the red flower blossoming across her chest. A breath of relief is exhaled but it's far from over. The Jungle is recognizing her blood and the generations that have lived in its embrace. It recalls the most immediate maternal relations and clutches onto the child.
"Fifth generation," Myrina mutters to herself thoughtfully. Paragon, Jadis, Echion, herself, and now her daughter. A proud smile curves the edges of her mouth as she continues to watch the ornate display of initiation. The Jungle brims with excitement toward the newcomers but Nayl is caressed as a cherished treasure. A small tree frog appears on her right hip - a tribute to Jadis, which she doesn't realize - and runes dance around her eyes, down her neck and shoulder - a tribute to Echion. The Jungle hesitates then.
The child is cold. Her stare is frigid.
Myrina arrives with a mane and tail of ice.
Yes, ice.
There is a sound of shattering. The ice is breaking but what ice could there be in the Jungle? Nayl glances back to her mother before realizing it's her. A patch of frost and shattered ice breaches the surface of the skin on her shoulder. It stings but the child grits her teeth and embraces the pain. It's a single patch for now. It's frigid to the touch. It's the beginning of her servitude here. As the years continue on the ice and frost will expand. While Scorch is the fire of Echion's personality Nayl is the bitter coldness of her heart. Fire and Ice. Powerful. A frigid breath is exhaled - a single occurrence.
She is a celebration of her heritage and of the generations of blood that has remained devoted to this land, but she is also unique. Ice can be invisible and lethal.
Nayl manages to smile then before receding back to her mother's side as her tattoos continue to excitedly tingle.
Myrina stands back to quietly listen while Nayl stands closer to Scorch with a lingering brightness in her autumn eyes. She cares not for the others whose names have been welcomed or much else past that. The girl's mind is wrapping around her vows as she excitedly anticipates them (though her expression doesn't betray her enthusiasm). Nayl is unreadable and composed. Myrina, on the otherhand, is unafraid to show her confusion as Scorch continues speaking of diplomatic ties. "How many kingdoms is the Jungle trying to befriend? It sounds like everyone," who would that leave for them to prey on? What fun is there is not having a single enemy?
Nayl glances warily back to her mother when the question is proposed but immediately refocuses on Scorch as she opens the floors to those that wish to say the vows. Alptraum steps forward first. Impatience claws at the child but she suppresses it as best she can before it is her turn. Her ears pin back momentarily as she takes the opportunity to slip past the others to go before them. Once in place, however, her expression returns to as it was: cool, collected, and oddly frigid. Her voice matches and defies what her age actually is. "To the Jungle, I swear my service in life and death. To this kingdom, I swear my blood and my body. To my Sisters and Brothers, I swear my loyalty and love." Brothers? The question beats against her consciousness but the child never wavers.
And so her tattoos appear.
Myrina watches with fascination as she remembers the day she did the same. Glancing over her shoulder she can just barely see the rune markings that dance across her skin to signify her familial ties in addition to the vibrancy of earth markings for her powers. Wondering what will appear on Nayl, she straightens herself, spares a glance to Scorch, then looks at her daughter.
A warmth tingles up Nayl's leg, her shoulder, her neck and face, and down her spine. It's an odd feeling but she doesn't flinch at all; she is strong, she tells herself, with the face of a fierce warrior (to be). The emerald green vine wraps tightly around her right leg with the red flower blossoming across her chest. A breath of relief is exhaled but it's far from over. The Jungle is recognizing her blood and the generations that have lived in its embrace. It recalls the most immediate maternal relations and clutches onto the child.
"Fifth generation," Myrina mutters to herself thoughtfully. Paragon, Jadis, Echion, herself, and now her daughter. A proud smile curves the edges of her mouth as she continues to watch the ornate display of initiation. The Jungle brims with excitement toward the newcomers but Nayl is caressed as a cherished treasure. A small tree frog appears on her right hip - a tribute to Jadis, which she doesn't realize - and runes dance around her eyes, down her neck and shoulder - a tribute to Echion. The Jungle hesitates then.
The child is cold. Her stare is frigid.
Myrina arrives with a mane and tail of ice.
Yes, ice.
There is a sound of shattering. The ice is breaking but what ice could there be in the Jungle? Nayl glances back to her mother before realizing it's her. A patch of frost and shattered ice breaches the surface of the skin on her shoulder. It stings but the child grits her teeth and embraces the pain. It's a single patch for now. It's frigid to the touch. It's the beginning of her servitude here. As the years continue on the ice and frost will expand. While Scorch is the fire of Echion's personality Nayl is the bitter coldness of her heart. Fire and Ice. Powerful. A frigid breath is exhaled - a single occurrence.
She is a celebration of her heritage and of the generations of blood that has remained devoted to this land, but she is also unique. Ice can be invisible and lethal.
Nayl manages to smile then before receding back to her mother's side as her tattoos continue to excitedly tingle.
But then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask.