Scorch;

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

The resemblance between adopted (by force) aunt and niece when the two were of the same age is uncanny. The trees had never bent for Scorch the way they bent for Echion until the blood, sweat and tears she had shed could make a sea when combined together. The journey had been difficult, though Scorch always knew, right from the start. As the Khaleesi stands, these musings fluttering amongst her many other occupations and responsibilities, she allows that the only differences found between Nayl and herself are their mothers’ level of approval, and their temperature.

For Scorch is fire, and Nayl, ice.

The wind picks up suddenly, and this gives away Nayl’s silent, stealthy approach. The volcanic-queen smirks in way of greeting, muttering, “Speak of the devil,” under her breath as she turns to face her niece. Otherwise, the woman remains silent until the small, determined girl greets her out of her own will.

Strong girl. I see generations of warriors in you... And how like Echion this makes you. The perfect bloodline-continuer. Little do either of you know – blood means nothing. I have proved everyone wrong, especially you, mother. But I suppose that that is what has driven me all these years – so thanks for being such a bitch to me. I guess.

“You may call me what you wish, Nayl, daughter of Myrina, daughter of Echion.” She quirks an entirely made-up brow at the black paint’s (so like Echion, with her wings chopped off that is) next statement. “Your mother was and is a treasured part of the sisterhood. It won’t be easy to beat her. Mother’s tend to have a way of… Seeming insurmountable. But if I did it, you can, too.”

The smirk slips from her charred lips at the suggestion of tutorage. She had tried with Ea – and succeeded, mind you – despite her daughter’s reluctance. Her shoulders roll as pros and cons are weighed. She considers how much of a nuisance children are – she has had eight, after all. She also considers how un-childlike this girl is. Ea, too, had an adult-ish air about her; and an air of snobbery, but some rulers are destined to be aristocratic.

The minutes pass by, Scorch’s indestructible emerald-green eyes bore into Nayl, perhaps testing her resolution, perhaps simply lost in her own thoughts. A howler screams nearby, causing Scorch to blink, and then straighten to her full, mighty height.

“What do you want to know?”

Scorch

Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

I haven't written in like... 2384214712897174012 years. Please ignore the bleghness of this I had a really bad night. I don't even know how I'm wording. ALSO WELCOME TO HAVING THREE THREADS WITH ME HAHAHAHA ur welcum im fantasstiq